The Archetype Association
by archetypex
Summary: A new member joins the team, and the XMen will never be the same... Rogue especially.
1. Chapter 1

_Aran Islands, Ireland_

The cliff was a nearly vertical slope, and was, as usual, deserted, cut off from the nearest town by the pounding surf and salt - coated ocean winds which cut at the face and choked off breathing. The freezing rain, carried along by the blasts of air, was accompanied by thunder which trembled across the sky, moving in tempo with the bursts of lightning glowing above the clouds. For years, the consensus among the locals had been that only an idiot or a madman would live on that coast.

However, someone did live there. They were still trying to figure out just what category he fit into. They were starting to think that he was a category all to himself.

He had shown up about three years ago, and had paid a ridiculous amount of money for the land. When he had applied to the local zoning board to build a house on the cliff, they had been shocked that anyone would even consider living there. His plan was approved, but it was rumored that some money had exchanged hands before that happened. When someone from the local historical society pointed out to him that an old pre-Christian burial site was nearby, he asked if his plans would cause any disruption of the site. When told no, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "At least I'll have quiet neighbors."

He had built the house himself, by hand, and moved right in. Beyond his weekly walks into town to pick up his food and mail, no one saw or spoke with the man. He had no utility bills to pay, since he bought bottled water in town, and a windmill that he had erected generated all of his power. In point of fact, he used very little power, since the only electricity that he used, beyond lighting, powered a small laptop computer and satellite dish.

That night, however, it wasn't on. He simply sat in front of the hearth, gazing into the flames of his peat-and-driftwood fire.

"Well," he said to the fire, "I think I'm finally ready. Where should I start?"

The fire didn't respond. It hardly ever did.

"With them, eh? Yes," he said reflectively. "Yes, I think we will be able to help each other out. Thanks for the advice." He did some mental calculation in his head, got up, walked over to the computer, and switched it on. He quickly logged onto his online service, and composed a message:

_To:vcoopernsa.gov.usa_

_Contact X as per our previous discussion. Awaiting your reply._

He sent the message, logged off, and turned off the computer. Getting up, he walked back to the fire.

"It's done. Now we wait." He banked the fire and went to bed.

* * *

_Salem Center, New York_

_Six months later_

It was a pleasant spring day, and Ororo Munroe was making the most of it, working on her outdoor garden with the satisfaction of one who is totally content with her task. The tulips were doing very well, she decided, but the crocuses were looking a little limp. Perhaps some more mulch, she thought...

"Morning, 'Roro," she heard behind her.

"Good morning, Warren," she replied, looking up. Warren Worthington III, a.k.a. Archangel, walked up beside her.

"How's the garden?" he asked.

"It's coming along very nicely, thank you."

"Betsy and I are going into town. Want to come along?"

She considered it. "Yes. Can you wait fifteen minutes so I can clean up and change?"

"No problem. Here, I'll get that," he said, picking up the basket of garden tools.

"Thank you again," she said as they walked back towards the mansion.

"You know, I wonder sometimes why you bother," Warren said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you have complete control over the weather, right? So why do you bother to put all that sweat into your garden, when your powers could make it so much easier?"

"Firstly, I may control the elements, but I can't control other variables such as soil condition, weeds, or insect damage"

"That's true," he conceded.

"Secondly, I keep that garden going for personal reasons."

"I don't get it."

She sighed. "It's more to teach myself humility than anything else. I was once worshipped as a goddess, remember. Those flowers, no matter how much work I put into them, will do whatever they please, and won't apologize if things don't go the way I want them to. That tends to negate any chance that my ego will get too big for my own good."

Warren chuckled. "You want these in their usual place in the garage?"

"Yes, please."

Ororo went up to her room, created a small rain cloud, and took a brief but delicious shower. When she was done, she got dressed and met Warren and Elizabeth Braddock down in the foyer.

"All set?" Betsy asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Where were you planning on..."

"I'm afraid I'll have to interrupt your trip, my friends."

Ororo looked behind her. Charles Xavier was coming out of his study, his "wheelchair" floating about two feet above the floor.

"Is there an emergency, Charles?" she asked.

"It's not an emergency, but it is worrisome, and I think I'll need a response from all of the X-Men before I know how best to proceed. If we could all meet in the briefing room in fifteen minutes, I'll explain in more detail."

Fifteen minutes later, all of the X-Men were sitting at the large table in the briefing room, with Xavier at the head.

"I received a call earlier this morning from Valerie Cooper. She has an individual who wishes to join the X-Men."

"So what's the problem, Chuck?" Wolverine asked. "New admissions are decided on by the senior team members, aren't they? That's not our department."

"There are several problems, Logan. One: This individual contacted Val through her private e-mail address nine months ago. Two: He knows far more about us than I am comfortable with. Three: He'll be here in fifteen minutes."

The room exploded at that. "How did he know where we are?" Cyclops exclaimed. "That's a major breach of security!"

"It gets worse, Scott. He won't be at the _gate_ in fifteen minutes, he'll be at the _front door_ in fifteen - no, sorry - fourteen minutes."

"What about all our security?" asked Jean.

"Val asked that herself. She was told, and I quote: 'It won't make any difference.'"

"So who is our impending visitor, Charles?" asked Henry McCoy. "Do we know anything about him?"

"Val said that he's bringing the information that we'll need with him. All we have right now is a name."

"And what's that?"

"Archetype."

* * *

The team members were placed in strategic locations throughout the mansion, leaving Xavier, Jean, and Cyclops standing in the foyer. 

"Is Hank monitoring the school grounds?" Scott asked tensely.

Jean concentrated for a moment. "Yes. No sign of anything."

"How long do we have?"

"Three minutes," replied Xavier.

"It would take longer than that just to walk here from the gate," Scott mused, "and that's assuming that the security is off. Could he be a flier?"

"I have no idea, Scott."

"You're putting an awful lot of faith in Val Cooper, Charles," Jean said. "Are you sure that you can trust her in this case? Remember that incident last year with X-Factor."

"I don't think Val had much choice in this matter, Jean. She never said anything outright, but I got the sense that whoever this person is, he's a resource that we have to make sure is on our side. Besides, you're forgetting something. If he can get past our security to pay us a visit, then he can attack us just as easily. The fact that he's telling us in advance what he's going to do makes it unlikely that he's a threat."

"Either that or he's extremely cocky," Scott grumbled. "This is too cloak-and-dagger for me."

At the one-minute mark, Scott activated his wrist communicator. "Anything, Hank?"

"No sign of anyone," was his reply.

Three seconds later, there was a knock at the door. They all looked at it sharply.

"Jean, would you get that from here, please?" Xavier requested calmly.

Jean telekenitically took hold of the knob, and opened the door.

A man stood on the front steps, dressed in a grey overcoat with black gloves.

"Good afternoon," he said with a slightly Irish accent. "Professor Charles Xavier, I presume?"

"Yes," Xavier replied. "You're early."

"Am I?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "My watch read 1100 hours and five seconds."

"You're running seven seconds fast."

"Really? I'll have to do something about that...later. May I come in, or shall we conduct our business on the front porch?"

"Open the coat," Scott said, "and then walk in. Slowly."

"Very well." He unbuttoned the coat, and opened it. Underneath, he was dressed in grey trousers and jacket, with a white dress shirt, a black tie, and a black vest, with a chain hanging between the pockets. He walked in carefully, keeping eye contact with Xavier. Once he was past the door, Jean manually closed it

again.

"Shall I remove the coat?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Xavier replied. The man removed his coat and held it.

"Just drop it," Jean told him. When he did so, Jean caught it with her power and hung it on the rack. "Thank you," he told her.

"Any weapons?" Scott asked her.

"No," she replied. After a moment she replied, "None on him either."

"Now that we've determined that I'm not out to destroy all of you..."

"We haven't come to that conclusion _yet_, Mister..." Scott snapped.

"For now, you may call me Archetype."

"Right. Jean, do you sense anything from him?"

Jean frowned. "Scott, I can't make heads or tails of his thoughts. They're going all over the place."

"I can explain that," Archetype replied.

"Later," Xavier interrupted. "For now, I want the information that Ms. Cooper said that you would bring with you."

"Of course." He slowly reached into one of the suit pockets, taking out a CD case. "All of the information that you will need is here. Val said that you would have the access code. I insisted on that, mind you. I wanted to eliminate any suspicion that I doctored the disc." He handed the disc to Xavier.

"Jean, call the others in, would you? I want the senior staff in my study. Mr... Archetype will wait in the ante room, under watch, while we review this."

Archetype pulled a paperback book out of his other suit pocket. "What do you think you're doing?" Bishop questioned him.

"Reading," Archetype replied. "If I have to sit in judgment, I may as well get something done in the meantime."

"What's the book?" asked Rogue.

"_Expanded Universe_, by Robert A. Heinlein."

"Science fiction?"

"Yes. Quite good, in fact."

Rogue studied the man carefully. He was about her height, and had a slim but wiry build. He

appeared to be in his mid to late twenties, but the silver shot throughout his brown hair made him look a bit older. His eyes were grey, and the glasses that he had put on when he took out his book made him look like he belonged in a classroom, rather than among the X-Men. All in all, he wasn't bad-looking.

He glanced up from his book, and caught her watching him. "Is something wrong, Miss?"

"Uh, no," Rogue said, somewhat embarrassed.

Bishop cut in. "Rogue, I suggest that, until we are given further information by the Professor, we treat this man as an enemy, and not make small talk with him."

"Permission to treat the witness as hostile, Your Honor," Archetype said, smiling slightly. "A good policy, sir. However, I must point out that you just made a tactical error."

"Really?" Bishop said icily. "And what might that have been?"

"There was no guarantee that I knew her name before now, but you just gave it to me. Now I have a name to match her face." He looked at Rogue again. "Not that a face like yours could be forgotten, Miss Rogue." He returned to his book. Rogue had to smile, both to hide her embarrassment at the compliment and her amusement to Bishop's look of chagrin.

A few minutes later, Xavier, Jean, Scott, Warren, Ororo, and Henry entered the room. "We have a few questions for you, sir," Xavier said.

"Of course," Archetype said, putting the book back in his pocket. "But I think that after viewing that disk, you have far more than a _few_ questions. I assure you, my responses will be as truthful as I can make them. There are some answers that I don't have myself."

"Understood. I'd like to test the big question first. Rogue, Bishop, would you both please come over here?"

As they came over to the other side of the room, Logan entered, with a box in his hands. "I'll take care of this part, Chuck. If he's lying, it won't bother me as much."

"If I _am_ lying sir," Archetype said, "these documents will allow you to make sure that when I leave, a satisfactory explanation will be available for my condition." He removed an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, placing it on the end table. He then removed his jacket and placed it on the couch.

"I appreciate it," Logan said dryly.

"Seven plus one?" he asked.

"Right." With that, Logan opened the box, pulling out a .44 Magnum.

"What is this, a test to see if he's invulnerable?" Bishop asked.

Archetype's response was a chill smile.

"Not quite."

Wolverine emptied the clip in less than two seconds. All of the bullets hit Archetype in the heart, going through him, and hitting the wall behind him.

Archetype looked at the holes in his chest for a moment, swaying unsteadily. He looked up at Logan, and gasped two words:

"Nice grouping."

Then he fell to the floor, dead.

"Well," said Logan, "that was interesting."

Henry walked over to the fallen body, felt for a pulse. "He is as the proverbial doornail."

"How long did Val, say, Hank?"

"About five minutes."

Rogue and Bishop gaped at the corpse, looked at each other for a moment, then turned to the professor. "Professor," Rogue asked, "just what the hell did you do that for?"

Xavier glanced at Rogue for a moment. "To prove a point."

"What point? That we can kill unarmed civilians?"

"Just wait, Rogue. Wait and see."

Rogue sat down, shocked at the callous attitude shown by the others. She wondered if it was possible that Xavier had finally snapped. Jean walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't exactly how it looks, Rogue... hopefully," she said.

"Have you all gone crazy, Jean? How could that have been anything but cold-blooded..." Her voice trailed off. The corpse had moved.

Archetype gasped, moved about jerkingly for a moment, then slowly got up from the floor. He staggered to a chair and sat down.

He looked at Xavier. "Satisfied?" he gasped.

"Yes," Xavier replied quietly. "Hank, take care of him."

"That... won't be necessary," Archetype gasped, ripping open his shirt.

The holes left by the bullets were quite large. As they watched, each wound closed slowly, finally coalescing into healthy, unblemished flesh.

Archetype looked sympathetically at Rogue and Bishop, then at Xavier. "You should have warned them, you know."

"I couldn't think of any way to tell them."

"I can believe that." He got up, made a slight bow. "My name is William Riley."

"And, as far as I can tell, I cannot die."


	2. Chapter 2

"So," Betsy said, "just when did you find out about this... ability?"

"About ten years ago," Archetype replied, sipping at his tea. Warren had given him one of his many shirts to wear, and he now looked like nothing had happened to him. He and the X-Men were seated in the formal dining room, surrounding the large table.

"I was working out West, around the Rockies, and was doing a lot of traveling. One night, I was in the middle of nowhere, driving to my next assignment, when a semi showed up out of nowhere. The driver was probably asleep at the wheel, and was weaving all over the place. There was no way in hell I could avoid the thing, and I ended up hitting it head-on.

"The next thing I knew, it was high noon, and I hurt like hell. I wasn't entirely rational, so I just climbed out of the car and started walking. Later, when I saw the car, I realized that the car had fallen off the mountain, the gas tank had exploded, and the car had burned to a shell, with me in it.

"I didn't realize that at the time, though. All I knew was that I was in pain, and I had to find help. I guess I wandered into the mountains eventually. The next thing I remember is finding a cabin in the middle of the woods. I tried to shout for help, but my throat wouldn't make any sounds. I was finally able to break a window and climb in that way.

"The cabin was deserted - I suppose it was a hunting lodge of some kind - and I looked around. I was able to find a mirror. Sometimes I wish I hadn't." He closed his eyes as if still feeling the pain.

"I was a mess. My skin had been charred black, and my face was completely gone. The skin was hanging from my fingers. I took a good look at myself, and fainted dead away.

"I have no idea how long I lay there. I didn't move. I didn't even breathe. I just collapsed, and wondered why I wasn't dead. I waited to die. I _wanted_ to die, because the pain was more than I could stand." He looked at Xavier wryly. "Believe it or not, the part that I _don't_ expect you to believe is coming up."

"We'll do our best to suspend our disbelief," replied Xavier.

Archetype chuckled, then continued. "Well, after a while I started losing awareness. I like to think that I was at a point between death and life, neither one nor the other." He frowned. "Before I continue, I think I should ask: are any of you familiar with the psychological principles of Carl Jung?"

"I am," Betsy replied. "When I first realized that I was a telepath, I read as much psychology as I could get my hands on."

Archetype looked at her, eyes narrowed, then continued. "Well, you may be able to explain to the others what I'm talking about, then. It should become clearer as I go along."

"I stayed on that cabin floor for several months, healing, although I didn't really know how much time was passing. When I finally came out of my trance, I was completely healed. However, my hair was about a foot longer, and I had a full beard. I was also thin as a rail, and hungrier than I'd ever been in my life. I staggered out of the cabin - I was able to unlock the door - and looked for something - anything - to eat.

"After stripping a few blackberry bushes, I ran across a buck, not five feet away from me, on the other side of a tree. Suddenly, my senses went crazy. I knew, instantly, what I had to do. I leapt out from behind that tree, jumped onto the back of that buck, grabbed him by the horns, and held on for dear life." He stopped for a moment. "I can't believe I just said that," he said to himself, rolling his eyes. Some chuckles were heard around the table.

"Anyway, after a while, the buck just got tired out. Now, this buck was huge, about three hundred pounds, while I must have weighed about eighty at the time. But I grabbed that deer by its head, and with one twist of my arms, I broke its neck.

"Then I found two rocks - two pieces of flint, and knocked them against one another. Again, I didn't know _how_, in fact, I was too hungry to care, but I knew exactly what angle to hit those rocks together to get some sharp chips of flint. I used those chips like you'd use a utility knife. I had the meat off that buck before the body was cold. I just sat there in the middle of the forest, totally naked, eating a raw deer with my hands. I had gone totally primal."

"You came out of that state eventually, I assume?" Hank asked.

"Yes. Once my belly was full, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was still hungry, but I had filled out a bit. It seemed that my body had been working overtime, converting the calories that I had eaten into pure muscle. Night had fallen while I was asleep. I was a bit more rational, and I realized that wolves would be after the carcass soon. I cut off the largest slab of meat I could carry, took my flint chips, and got back to the cabin as fast as I could.

"The previous occupants of the cabin had left a supply of firewood, so I used the flint to start a fire. Now, I had never even cooked over a charcoal grill before, so I didn't know how I knew how to start that fire, but I did it anyway. I cut off some of the meat, cooked and ate it, and went back to sleep.

"Next morning, I got a good look at myself. I was a filthy mess, covered in blood and dirt. I found a stream near the cabin, and washed up. Things started to come back to me around then, and a few minutes later, I realized that I was standing naked in the middle of nowhere. I went back to the cabin, and found some old clothes after rummaging around for a while.

"Before I got dressed, though, I realized something. Before that truck hit me, I had lived out of a fast-food bag and never exercised, so while I wasn't fat, I did have a bit of a potbelly. I was pretty flabby, actually. Now, though, I was lean and mean. I had the body of a long-distance runner. Some old scars had healed themselves, too. I couldn't explain it.

"I sat down and thought about it for a while, wondering how I knew how to do all these things. Now, this was the first time in days that I had something other than simple survival to worry about. After sitting quietly for a few minutes, I realized that I could hear voices inside my head. A _lot_ of voices."

"What are you saying?" Betsy asked.

"I think I've started to figure it out," Jean said. "It explains your code name, too. You're in contact with the collective consciousness, aren't you?"

"Yes," Archetype replied. "Either that, or I went completely insane as a result of my accident."

"That could explain why we can't read you," Xavier said.

"Possibly. There might, however, be a more mundane reason for that. Are you familiar with a

neurological condition known as attention deficit disorder?"

"Yes. It's a condition found in children, usually accompanied with hyperactivity."

"There's been some new research in that area recently, Charles," Jean corrected him. "There are cases where hyperactivity isn't present, and some people carry the condition on into adulthood."

"I'm one of those lucky few," Archetype said sardonically. "The reason why you can't read me isn't due to any sort of psychic defense. My mind is like that all the time."

"Must make life interesting.," Hank remarked.

"You should get some entertainment watching me flip out around April fifteenth. It's sort of difficult to fill out a tax return for the previous year when you can't remember what you did yesterday. Well, after I demonstrate my other primary ability, I suppose that you'll want me to leave for a while, so that you can make a decision regarding my status. If you do decide to keep me around, I'll give you a few warnings about what having me here is going to be like."

"That sounds fair," Xavier agreed. "Would you demonstrate for us, please?"

"Certainly." Archetype paused for a moment. "An explanation beforehand might be in order. When I started to realize what had happened to me, I spent several months in that cabin, trying to explore the limits of my new gifts. After several acts of extreme masochism that helped determine the limits of my healing abilities, I decided to look inside my mind again.

"After... I guess 'communing' would be the best word... with those voices for a while, I started to see things in a different way. It's not really something that I can explain in words. I think you would have to experience it to understand it. The gist of it, though, was that I could see 'paths' all around me, going to different places, that I could step into if I so chose." He smiled for a moment. "I'm afraid that what I'm about to tell you is going to seem pretty mystical. Please bear with me."

Archetype got up, and walked over to the window. The sun was just starting to set, darkening the sky with scarlet and gold.

"The world that you know is only one of many out there."

"We're aware of that," Scott said. "We've all visited other worlds in the past."

"That wasn't quite what I meant. I'm not talking about a location in space, but a state of being, and of looking at the world. All of you walk in the daylight, touched only lightly by darkness. I've traveled to many different places, and have experienced the extremes of both light and darkness. I've been in the many shades of grey in between, and have experienced other 'shades' of being." He shook his head as he sat back down. "I'm sorry, but the dichotomy of black-and-white, good-and-evil doesn't tell the whole story. I've seen ways of viewing the world which don't have any parallel that you'd be familiar with. When I see things, I see them on many different levels at the same time."

"Just what do you mean by 'levels'?" asked Warren.

"Well, there's the level that you and I are dealing with right now, what could best be called the physical level. However, I'm also aware of other things: what might be called the dimensional level. I can 'see' the manner in which natural forces interact around me, and draw strength from those forces, making my own abilities more efficient. I can also tap on something..." He hesitated for a moment, appearing uncertain. "...I'm trying to find the right word. 'Primitive' is wrong, because it's rich and vibrant, and as important now as it's ever been. I suppose 'deep' is the best way to describe it. I can utilize those images and concepts which are buried deep within the human psyche, and draw information from them. Jung called these sources archetypes. That's how I chose my name."

"I also seem able to, in a very vague way, predict the future."

"How do you mean?" Ororo asked.

"No action takes place in a vacuum. Every action that you or I make affects the environment around us. I'm not just talking about the natural environment, either. Society, politics, and the economy are all affected by our actions. What I seem to be able to do is to look into the collective consciousness and, based upon what I see there, make extrapolations of what is going to happen in the near future. I can then make decisions based on my conclusions."

"How accurate are your predictions?" asked Bobby.

"I have a successrate of between seventy and eighty percent. Once I came down out of the mountains, I found that I was nearly broke. I had been fired from my job, and after paying off all my bills, I had about one thousand dollars to my name. After getting another job, and a few months of careful living, I built that up to five thousand dollars. I picked up a paper and a financial magazine, and started leafing through them aimlessly. Eventually, I found that certain listings caught my eye, and others gave me a bad feeling, for no reason whatsoever. I invested in the ones that made me feel good. I dropped them when I got a bad feeling about them. After following that system for a full year, I was worth quite a bit."

"Wait a minute," Warren choked out. "You mean that you became rich by randomly leafing through the financial section?"

"Yes. Disgusting, isn't it? I've kept that up for the past three years."

"How much are you worth now?" Xavier questioned him.

"I'd rather not say out loud. May I have a pencil and paper?"

"Certainly." Xavier handed him the notepad that he had been jotting his observations on. Archetype scribbled on it for a moment, and handed it back to him.

Xavier looked at it for a moment. "What's wrong, Charles?" Ororo asked him.

"He's written it in scientific notation. This will take a second." After a moment's concentration, Xavier's eyes went wide. "Good Lord!"

"What? How much is he worth?"

"Think of your Social Security number," Archetype advised her.

"All right," she replied.

"Now add two digits."

"You must be joking."

He shrugged. "It pays the bills. I'd be more than willing to act as a financial advisor for any of you."

"We're getting off the subject," Xavier interrupted, regaining his composure. "We've determined that you have a precognitive ability."

"I wouldn't call it precognition. I don't see _events_ as much as I see _trends_. My skill is highly intuitive. I can find the solution to a problem, and act upon it, without being able to articulate just how I found that solution."

"Understood. What is your other primary ability?"

"Well, it's related to my first one. I told you that I can see the 'paths' that exist all around me. I can utilize those paths to travel from place to place. When I do that, I temporarily step outside of this reality, and reenter it almost instantly. Time has little meaning for me while I'm in the process of transit. 'Teleportation' would be the best word for what I do, although it's a little inexact."

"So you're a teleporter," Jean said.

"I have some other abilities in that vein, as well. You see, once I came to certain realizations as a result of my experience, my own views of space and time changed drastically." He picked up a sheet of paper from the table and stood up. "I think that a demonstration would be the best way to explain what I'm talking about. With your permission?" he asked, looking at Xavier, who nodded.

Archetype walked over to a corner of the room, where there was a bit of space for him to move around. He held two adjacent corners of the paper, holding it in front of him.

"Imagine that the surface of the paper is the fabric of space. If you wanted to travel from one end of it to the other, it would take you quite a while. Now, when I travel, I look for another path, one in which the total distance is shorter."

"You see, the metaphor of a sheet of paper to represent space is a bit inaccurate. It encourages the view that space is an orderly place. The reality is more like this." He crumpled the paper up into a ball.

"Now, this analogy is also inaccurate, because different areas of space are either crumpling or flattening out at any given time. The forces that hold it all together are moving along with them, and are constantly interacting with one another. What I do is locate the points where these forces converge, and use them to get where I have to go."

"So you use existing congruence points in space-time, rather than creating your own," Henry said.

"Yes. Believe me, it's much harder for me to explain it than it is for me to do it. Another facet of this ability is that I can 'stretch' space-time. You see, by carrying my metaphor a bit further, the fabric of space is not made of cloth, but of elastic. I can either 'fold' or 'stretch' any distance."

"Can you demonstrate the latter?" Henry asked.

"Certainly. Please walk towards me." Henry obliged him, getting out of his chair and approaching him.

To the rest of the X-Men sitting at the table, it looked like Henry was walking in place, then running in place.

"What's happening, Hank?" Bobby asked.

"The dining room just gets longer and longer," Henry gasped.

"You can stop running now," Archetype said. "I'll return things to normal when you're still."

Henry stopped, standing in place. He then sat down again.

"What about folding space?" Rogue asked him from the other side of the room.

"That's easier done--"

"--than said," he replied from directly behind her.

Rogue and the others turned abruptly, caught totally unawares.

"Is that how you showed up at the front door?" Jean asked.

"Yes."

"Are you always that fast?" Xavier asked him carefully.

"No," Archetype chuckled. "That was the Federal Express version of translocation. My usual method of travel is this."

A black rectangle, about six feet high and four feet wide, appeared beside him. A faint blue aura surrounded it. "This is what I call a Door. Original name, isn't it?"

"Where does it go to?" Rogue asked.

"Once I go through it, I'll transit back to where I was standing before." He stepped into the hole in space, and reappeared back beside Xavier.

"Is there any limit to your range?" Ororo asked.

"Not to my range, but I have to have a good idea of what there is where I'm going. If there are any solid objects in the area, things will get messy. It's actually more difficult for me to go a short distance than a long one. It takes longer to find connection points."

"Anything else about you that we should know about?" Xavier asked.

"My vision extends a bit farther into the infrared than an ordinary person's. It looks like a thermograph to me. Because of that, my night vision is excellent. I don't know if this has any bearing on anything, but before the accident, my eyes were brown. When I woke up from my recovery, they were grey, and have been ever since, and while I don't appear to have aged since then, my hair has been going silver for about a year. My hearing is a bit more acute than the ordinary. My ability to fold space-time allows me to move at what will appear to be very high speeds to an objective observer. I'm skilled in the use of most edged weapons, and I have excellent hand-to-hand combat skills."

"What about personal information?" Jean asked. "Interests and such?"

Well, I do a lot of reading, and I'm a graduate of the Culinary Academy. I'll be more than happy to take on the role of cook if I'm accepted. I advise that you not give me responsibility of anything high-tech."

"Why's that?" Scott asked.

"I seem to have what could best be termed 'negative mechanical karma'. Electronic devices seem to act strangely whenever I'm around them for a while. I put out streetlights as I walk down the street at night, my computer never seems to work right, and light bulbs tend to burn out whenever I try to turn on a lamp. I'll keep my computer separate from whatever systems you have here, to minimize the chances of affecting your equipment.

"My connection with the collective unconscious makes me a very light sleeper. It's very rare that I'll sleep through a full night. I tend to be a night owl in any case. My interests are wide ranging, but tend not to be mainstream. I listen to almost any type of music under the sun. As a personal quirk, I seem to have total recall for pop music. I can recite almost any song that I've ever heard. Lastly, I tend to be somewhat eccentric. I guarantee you that while I may occasionally be maddening, I'm rarely boring.

"That's about it," he finished. "Any more questions?"

"Two," said Xavier. "And they're related. Why do you want to join us, and why can we use you?"

"That's pretty direct. Allll right. One: I'm a dyed-in-the-wool cynic. I don't trust the government, and I feel that, on the average, people are too unobservant to see what's going on around them. I am, however, realistic enough to realize that I can't bring about any real change if I work on my own. I need to work with people with whom I can achieve a common goal. You," he said, gesturing to the X-Men, "are the most effective catalysts for change that I have seen. Also, to be totally honest, I've been working alone for far too long. I want to be part of something bigger. Everything that I've heard about you says that you are as much a family as you are a team. That sounds like something that I'd very much like to be a part of.

"As for why you can use me, the tactical advantages spring to mind. With a teleporter, you'll be able to respond to events more quickly. The fact that I'm immortal shouldn't be ignored either. You'll be able to send me into situations where none of the rest of you would be able to survive. My skill at predicting the immediate future just might save your lives in a fight. Lastly, since your enemies tend to use ultra-high technology, my disruptive ability could prove to be a useful 'wild card' in a confrontation.

"I'll also make my financial and material resources available to all of you, for both strategic and personal reasons. I have a number of safehouses, scattered throughout the world. That might be useful if anyone gets stranded or separated from the rest of the team."

"All right, I've said my peace," he finished. "If you want, I'll leave while you make a decision."

"Just go into the sitting room," Xavier advised him. "Our discussions tend not to take very long."

"As you wish." He got up, tipped his head in acknowledgment, and left the room.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Xavier, turning back to the table.

"How did he know where we were?" Logan queried.

"I gave Val clearance to give him our location. He probably showed up at our front door to prove a point."

"What would that be?" asked Bobby.

"Think about it, kid," Logan replied. "We have some of the most advanced security technology in the world. He was able to bypass it completely, and knock on our front door. If he could do that, then he could have shown up inside, fully armed, and started shooting."

"The fact that he didn't most likely reflects his intentions more than it does his capabilities," Henry added.

"How did Val learn about this guy?" Rogue asked. "And what did she tell us about him?"

"You'd better play the disk again, Charles," Jean advised him.

"Good idea. Why don't we go down to the briefing room?" They all got up and made their way towards the elevators allowing passage to the lower levels, where the X-Men kept all of their advanced technology. As they passed by the living room, Archetype looked up from his book.

"We want to review the disk again," Xavier told him.

"Fair enough," he replied agreeably, returning to his book, pointedly ignoring the fact that Betsy sat down across from him, looking at him intently.

When they had reconvened in the briefing room, Xavier inserted the disk which Archetype had given him into a CD-ROM player, which he activated. When the prompt appeared, he typed in an encrypted password. A few seconds later, Valerie Cooper's face appeared on the screen.

_"Hello, Charles,"_ she said. _"I've made this recording in order to explain just why I sent Archetype to you on such short notice._

_"I think that an introduction is in order. The Committee on Superhuman Affairs is divided into several departments, each an agency in its own right. One deals with natural mutations, one with those superhumans who have gained powers through artificial means, and one with extraterrestials. It's the fourth agency that's important for the purposes of this briefing. This agency deals with events and phenomena which are best defined as 'supernatural'. It's descended from an agency which was formed during World War Two. The Third Reich was using quite a bit of magic in an effort to gain a tactical advantage, and the Allies formed an organization to counter them. Today, the agency monitors magical activity throughout the world, and makes the Committee aware of any events which could pose a threat to national security._

_"Just about two years ago, I started receiving reports that magical forces were on an upswing in both the United States and Europe, reversing a decline which had been taking place since the end of the war. In almost all the cases of increased magical activity, there was a common denominator: William Riley was present. It is not yet known at this time whether this is a result of deliberate activity on the part of Mr. Riley, or an inadvertent result of his presence._

_"Mr. Riley holds citizenship in both the U.S. and the Irish Republic. He has no criminal record, and does not seem to hold to any specific political philosophy. Nothing appears out of the ordinary about him until he reappeared after vanishing for nine months. He achieved tremendous financial success, making a fortune in the stock market. There were various unofficial investigations, of course, but no evidence of wrongdoing was ever found. The consensus among my people is that he's either an incredibly lucky sonofabitch, or he does possess some sort of power which allows him to foresee the immediate future, because he sold, most of the time, seconds before his holdings lost value. His timing was just too close for there to have been any sort of collusion with someone else."_

The image on the screen changed to a security camera. _"This footage is from a security camera at the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. Israeli security provided it at my request. _

_"You may recall a terrorist attack that was staged here by a an ultra-conservative Jewish group four years ago. Riley was there that day. As far as we've been able to tell, that's a coincidence. Keep an eye on the bottom left of the screen." _

They saw Riley walking around, looking at the architecture, a book in his hands. A few seconds later, several men with automatic weapons came on screen and started firing into the crowd. Riley fell along with the rest of the crowd, several bullet wounds visible on his body. The terrorists fled off camera.

The clock on the monitor skipped ahead ten minutes. Riley moved slowly, staggering to his feet, covered in his own blood. He turned suddenly, as if startled by a sound, then hurried out of the room, just before medical and military personnel arrived.

Cooper's face reappeared on the screen_. "I ordered my people to begin a full investigation of Riley, but to keep it low key. About three months later, I was working late in my office one night when there was a knock at my door. I assumed that it was the security guard who was doing rounds, so I told him to come in. Well, the door opens up, and in walks Riley. He sits down in front of me and just looks at me. I keep a pistol in my desk, so I took it out and pointed it at him. I know that sounds a little paranoid, but I felt pretty much the way I think you guys felt when he breezed past your security. By the time I had raised my pistol high enough to get a bead on him, he had disappeared. Before I could react to that, I felt something cold against the back of my neck, and a quiet voice telling me not to move. He took my gun away and sat back down. _

_"He told me that he hadn't come to threaten or harm me and that I wouldn't have been able to harm him in any case. He pulled the clip out, emptied both it and the chamber, and then handed it all back to me. Then he showed me what he had just held me up with."_ She grimaced_. "I may be the first government agent in history to be mugged with a Charleston Chew."_ Some giggling was heard around the table.

_"He asked me why I wanted to see him. Now I hadn't given any orders to approach him yet, because we hadn't been able to determine just what his political leanings were. I asked him what had given him the impression that I wanted to speak with him, and he responded that I had been investigating him. Then he gave me the names of all of the agents who were working on his case. _

_"Now, I have to be sure that you all understand that during the time that we were investigating him, we were doing it from desks in Langley, totally among ourselves. We hadn't sent out a single field agent to check him out. Somehow, he knew not only what we had been doing, but the stage we were at in the investigation. I'm not ashamed to say that my jaw hit the floor. _

_"He told me that he had no desire to work for the government, and that he fought his own battles. He did say, however, that he wanted to do some good in a manner that would allow him to do the job his way. He gave me an e-mail address and suggested that I contact him and give him the names of some... let's see, what was the phrase... 'independent agencies' who could use his talents. Then he tipped his hat to me and vanished. After I started breathing again, I got my team together, and we decided that the best way to keep him under control was to make sure that he worked with people we could trust. We decided on you, because you guys have been the most dependable of all the groups out there, and you have the best record of dealing with difficult personalities. I contacted him, and over a period of several months, we exchanged noncritical information about you. No identities were compromised, I assure you. _

_"Yesterday, he called me and told me that he would contact you guys today. I wasn't given any preparation time, because he didn't want me trying anything funny. I barely had time to make this disk and give it to him."_ Val's face became very serious.

_"Be careful with him, Charles. He knows a lot more than he talks about. He's sharp, he's sneaky, he's unpredictable, and I get the feeling that he's much more dangerous than he lets on. He may be one of the more powerful members that you've had. Just make sure that he doesn't blow up in your face. I'm depending on you to control him, or, if necessary, to neutralize him."_ The screen went blank.

"Neutralize," Bobby snorted. "The bureaucratic term for eliminate."

"We have other options at our disposal, Bobby," Xavier reminded him.

"Look, Professor, I don't want us to have another Creed hanging around here."

"Neither do I," said Jean. But I don't think he has any desire to harm us. Given what we've seen of him so far, there's been no sign of hostile intent from him."

"But you can't read him," Bobby pointed out.

"I didn't say that," she replied. "I only said that his thoughts weren't very coherent. I remember reading some articles about the condition he mentioned. A person with attention deficit disorder _would_ read the way he did to a telepath."

"Just what is attention deficit disorder, Jean?" Ororo asked.

"A neurological condition. His brain's wired a little differently than ours. He can't filter out external stimuli as well as the rest of us can." She frowned. "I doubt I'd be able to describe it properly. We'd be better off asking him and letting him describe it himself. I can get emotional impressions from him, though. Mostly, he's worried about what we'll decide."

"This isn't addressing the issue," Xavier noted. "Do we accept him among us or not?"

"He would give us certain tactical advantages," Henry mused. "Even with the Shiar backing us up, we keep getting outdone in technological sophistication. His ability could help us level the playing field. And he is right about our needing a teleporter. Most of the groups that we keep running into seem to have one as standard issue."

"Tell me about it," Logan grumbled. "Just once, I'd like to be able to follow Sinister wherever the hell it is he disappears to."

"Also," Henry continued, "if he is a precog, then we have the advantage of knowing when something big is about to happen."

"His safehouse system could also prove useful," Betsy pointed out. "So could his financial backing, for that matter."

"I can agree with that," Xavier said. "Our activities over the past few years haven't broken the bank, but they have bent it from time to time."

"I still don't like it," Scott growled. "Something about the man rubs me wrong."

"Anything specific, Scott?" Rogue asked.

He shook his head. "No. It's just a feeling."

"You felt that way about me once, Cyke," pointed out Logan, "and I think I've turned out pretty well."

"I say we let him stay here for a few weeks, so we can get an idea of what he's like," Warren said. "After that, we can make a decision about whether or not he becomes a full member. Besides, it'll give us a chance to test his abilities."

"Any objections to Warren's plan?" Xavier asked. No one spoke. "All right, we'll give him one month. Based on his suggestion, we'll make him the cook for the school. Hank, please set up some training sessions for him. Bobby, put him in Peter's old room. He'll go on a mission only if we need every available warm body. Dismissed."

As they filed back upstairs, Rogue walked over to Xavier. "Won't he need time to move in, Professor?"

Xavier frowned. "I hadn't even thought about it."

"I'll offer to help him out."

"Thank you. While you're at it, take a good look at how he decorates his room. It could give us some insight into how he thinks."

"Spying?"

Xavier smiled slightly. "Scientific observation."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well," said Archetype, "where to begin?"

He and Rogue had just finished packing up and clearing out what few possessions Peter had left in the room when he had transferred his belongings to England upon joining Kitty in Excalibur. Except for a bed, desk, and dresser, the room was now bare.

"How about a few pictures on the walls?" Rogue suggested. "I don't want to make any comparisons," she amended hurriedly, "but Peter was an artist, and he lived in this room long before I joined the team. The room just doesn't seem the same without something on the walls."

Archetype tilted his head for a moment, lost in thought. "It's as good a place to start as any. I've got some _objets d'art _in some of my other haunts. I'll go and pick a few to move here." Another hole in space formed in front of him.

"Want some help?"

"It couldn't hurt. Sure you trust me enough to risk it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after all, you've just met me. I may be a super-villain in disguise, ready to take you to my secret base, so that I can do all sorts of unspeakable things to your lovely person." He twirled an imaginary mustache.

Rogue laughed. "Mister, I could break you in two with my bare hands."

"Yes, I know. Ms. Cooper told me that you have superhuman strength, with invulnerability as an added bonus."

"That's right. And if that didn't work, all I have to do is touch you. You'd be knocked out, and I'd absorb your memories and powers."

Archetype's face suddenly became very serious. "Miss Rogue..."

"Just Rogue."

"...I feel that I owe you a warning. This isn't meant as a threat or intimidation. It's simply a statement of fact. You do _not_ want to do that."

"Why?" she asked, curious.

"I don't think you want to see the world through my eyes." His face brightened up again. "But enough gabbing, let's get to work." He gestured towards the 'Door', bowing deeply. "After you, madam."

"Where are we going?"

"To where I was last. Ireland."

She moved towards it, then hesitated for a moment. "What exactly will happen when we go through?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "It will be totally dark, but you'll be able to see."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Neither does life. Just trust me. The temperature will be whatever seems comfortable to you."

Rogue shrugged and walked in.

He was right. It _was _dark. In fact, it was nothing _but_ a flat darkness. She looked around. Archetype was standing right behind her, and she could see a hole behind him. This hole, however, showed the room they had just left, a small patch of light piercing the blackness. "How long will that last?" she asked.

"Until I close it. I'm going to keep both ends open to make it easier for us. Once I open a Door to our destination, the two Doors will come together. It'll be like walking into another room."

"Where are we right now?"

"We're... in between."

Rogue nodded, then noticed that he was surrounded by a thin aura of light. Looking at her own outstretched hand, she found that she was glowing in the same way. "What's with the light show?" she asked.

"Life glow. You might know it as an aura. Don't worry, it's harmless. Wait one moment." He closed his eyes in concentration, and another door formed in front of them. This one led to a darkly paneled room, simply furnished. When they walked through the door, Rogue noticed the sounds of pounding surf and howling wind.

"We're on the coast?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I suggest staying inside. That storm sounds bad. Now," he said to himself, "what do I want to bring with me?"

Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, they moved a night stand, two lamps, a few framed paintings, an armoire filled with some rather stylish clothes, and five bookshelves, books and all.

"I'm glad for your help," he said to her, as he carried in a floor-length mirror. "It would have taken me a few hours to pack all these books."

"No problem," she replied, looking at the books. "Have you actually read all of these?"

"Yes, most of them more than once. You're all more than welcome to borrow any of them. I'll grab some of the books from my other places later."

"You mean there's _more_?"

"Quite a bit more, actually. Just let me get my computer, and that should do it. Be right back." He walked back into the door, out of her sight.

She took a moment to look at the collection of books on the shelves. Rogue was rather well-read herself, but she had found little time for reading recently, being preoccupied with other matters. Archetype, she decided, had the most eclectic tastes in reading that she had ever seen. She found books on psychology, archeology, history, art, philosophy, sociology, and architecture, with a good amount of science fiction and fantasy novels thrown in, and an occasional bestseller among all the clutter. She was leafing through a dog-eared copy of Heinlein's _Time Enough for Love _when he returned, pushing a wheeled computer cart.

"You can keep that one if you like," he told her. "I've got another copy lying around somewhere."

"Thanks," she replied. She took another look at the bookshelves. "Aren't you a little old to be reading fairy tales?"

"You're never too old for a good fairy tale. Most of the old stories were never intended for children. What you remember from your childhood are sanitized versions of the originals. Remember what I said earlier about having walked through darkness?"

"I thought you might have been talking about those Doors of yours."

"No. I was talking about the dark parts of my soul. We all have a dark side." He gestured to his psychology books. "Jung was right on the money. He called the dark half of our being the shadow. We all have one. It's a part of our psyche that represents our base emotions, the selfishness and anger that a well-adjusted person keeps in check. We're raised to repress and ignore the shadow, not to control and recognize its power. Once you confront and accept the dark half of your soul, you can channel the tremendous creative energy that it contains. I personally think that's why most writers are so despondent. Confronting the shadow is a lot of work, but I think it's worth it. The old stories, if you look at them, deal a lot with confrontations with the shadow. By looking at them in the right way, I can gain some insight into the collective consciousness, and hopefully understand my power a bit better."

Rogue nodded. "So these stories are the originals?"

"Most of them. Either that or modern retellings."

"What else will you be bringing over?"

He frowned. "My stereo and CDs should be it. I can get them later today. By the way, when's dinner around here, generally?"

"We usually eat around seven, just after the news."

"Is there a small TV in the kitchen? I'll probably be cooking, and I don't like to miss the news."

"We have one in the wall. It also ties into the communication center down below, in case there's an emergency."

He nodded. "Good planning."

Rogue smiled. "You won't think so after you've missed a few meals. Half the time, we get called down to the War Room just as we're about to dig in. Well," she finished, "I'll let you get to work. Just come downstairs if you need any more help."

"I'll do that. I do have a question."

"What's that?"

He looked at her pointedly. "Did Xavier assign you to shadow me?"

Rogue grimaced, deciding that it wouldn't pay to alienate him on his first day among them. "He asked me to try to learn what I could about your personality."

He tilted his head slightly, seeming to think about it. Then he smiled. "Good. I'm glad to see some reasonable behavior. See you at dinner."

"Let me make sure I understand," Xavier said a few minutes later, when Rogue had reported to him and the other senior members of the X-Men. "He was _expecting_ us to spy on him?"

Rogue shrugged. "It seems that way. I wouldn't call him paranoid, but he's not exactly very trusting either."

"He did admit as much to us, Charles," Jean reminded him.

"True. Well, we'll see just what he's capable of soon enough. Hank, I want you to set up a Danger Room session for tomorrow morning for him. Use the settings that we used for Kitty's first run."

"Right."

"What else did you learn about him?" Xavier asked Rogue.

"Not much. He has books on almost anything you could think of, and paintings in a half-dozen styles of art, from fantasy prints to somebody he said was named Rossetti."

"Dante Gabriel Rossetti," Hank offered. "A nineteenth-century English artist."

"We went to what must have been one of his safehouses. I never left the place - the weather outside sounded nasty - but he said it was the on west coast of Ireland."

"You went through one of his 'Doors'?" Hank asked. At her nod, he asked, "What was it like?"

"It wasn't really like anything, Hank. He told me that when we were in that place, we were nowhere and everywhere at the same time."

"That doesn't make sense."

"According to him, neither does life."

"Anything else we should know about?" Jean asked.

"He seems to have read a lot about Jungian psychology. He has at least twenty books on the subject. He said that they've helped him understand his own power better. That's all I was able to get from him, Professor."

"That's actually not bad for our first day, Rogue. By the way," he addressed the room, "I called Val about an hour ago. 'William Riley' is not his original name."

"A false identity?" Scott asked.

Xavier looked at a sheet of paper in front of him. "No, the name change was totally legal. He changed it after he came down from his mountain. He also signed some checks under the name Liam

Raghallaigh," he continued, mangling the last name.

"Can I see that, Chuck?" Logan asked. Xavier handed him the paper. Logan read it for a moment, then handed it back to Xavier. "No dice, Scott. That name's totally legal. A few years ago, I saw Sean Cassidy sign some checks to his bank in Ireland pretty weirdly, so I asked him about it. In Ireland, a person can legally have two different names: their birth name, and the Gaelic equivalent of the same name. 'Liam' is the Irish form of William. And Gaelic is a bitch to pronounce. If you give Sean a call, I'll bet you five bucks that the last name is pronounced 'Riley'."

"If there was no legal basis for the name change, then why did he do it?" Scott asked.

"Maybe the fact that he came so close to death had something to do with it," Ororo mused.

"What do you mean, Ororo?"

"I don't think that anyone who went through what he's claimed to would come out of it the same person. Maybe the name change represents a new beginning in his eyes. Or he might be trying to protect his loved ones, the way the X-Men did after we faced the Adversary."

"You could be right," Scott conceded. "We'll have to ask him later. Was there anything else he said that might be important, Rogue?"

"Well, he did give me a warning."

"Of what kind?" asked Ororo.

"He said that I don't want to try and absorb his powers. He wasn't threatening or anything like that," she assured them. "I think he really was concerned for my safety. I get the feeling that there are some very nasty aspects to his power that he hasn't told us about."

"Well, we may find out more during his Danger Room session tomorrow," Xavier said, looking at his watch. "Let's all get to dinner."

Because there was a new resident at the school, all of the X-Men ate dinner at the mansion that night, a departure from the usual_ lassiz-faire_ policy for the evening meal. Betsy and Warren had teamed up for the meal that night, cooking up a large pot roast with boiled vegetables and gravy. Archetype had milled around the table aimlessly for a moment. "Is there a set seating policy here?" he asked Bobby quietly.

"No, we just sit next to the person we want to talk to for the length of the meal. Here, you can sit between me and Rogue," he said, gesturing to a chair. Archetype tipped his head in acknowledgment and sat down, nodding again to Rogue as he did so.

Xavier, who was sitting at one end of the table, tapped his fork on his glass to call for silence. "I want to be the first to welcome Mr. Riley to the mansion. While his arrival was a bit unusual, we hope that he will be able to contribute in his own way towards our dream. Mr. Riley, welcome to the school - and, perhaps, the X-Men." He raised his glass, with the rest of the table following his lead. No one noticed the frown on Scott's face as he joined the toast.

Archetype contributed little to the dinner conversation. Rogue, noticing this, decided to try and draw him out and turned towards him. "We don't take kindly to wallflowers here, mister," she said jokingly.

"What?" he said, somewhat startled. "I'm sorry, I was somewhere else. You were saying?"

"I was saying that we expect you to say something during the meal. This is a house, not a cafeteria."

"All right," he said, "Let's start with a few questions. What part of Mississippi are you from?" As he asked this last question, his voice acquired a perfect Mississippi drawl, causing both Rogue and Bobby to raise their eyebrows in surprise.

"How did you do that?" Bobby asked him.

"I can't really learn foreign languages very well," he replied, "but I'm very good at recognizing and mimicking accents. You," he said, his voice again changing, "are from Long Island, while Xavier himself is a native of the Westchester area." As he spoke, his voice changed to reflect the accent of the area he was talking about. "I can't place the origins of Storm or Wolverine yet," his voice returning to its quasi-Irish lilt, "but given time, I'll be able to mimic their accents as well."

"Is that Irish accent of yours real?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, but only because I spent the last three years in Ireland. In a few weeks, my speech will change again, probably becoming a mix of all of your accents combined. I think it's another byproduct of my power."

"Weird," Bobby said.

"Very," he agreed.

Henry, who was sitting across from him, spoke up. "Is there anything that we should know before your Danger Room session tomorrow?"

"Not that I can think of. I can assume that it's a safe bet that you won't try to kill me on my first dry run. Besides, if I think about it ahead of time, I'll screw up when the time comes to actually do the deed."

"Why do you say that?" Bobby asked.

"I'm at my best when I think on my feet. If I plan ahead, I wind up second guessing myself when the crunch comes, and the end result is usually that I wind up being paralyzed. I've found that I do better if I trust my intuition."

Henry nodded. "So you're an intuitive thinker?"

"I.N.F.P.," Archetype replied.

"Excuse me," Rogue said, "but I didn't quite catch that."

"I did," Henry told her. "I'll explain later." They all changed the subject to various small talk.

As dinner ended, Archetype offered to help Ororo and Bishop with cleaning up. As the other members broke up, Rogue tapped Henry on the shoulder. "Why was he spouting letters at you before?" she asked him.

He smiled. "He was telling me, in his own way, that he's going to be a difficult man to get to know well. Those letters are his score on a popular psychological test called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. The test measures the type of personality that an individual has."

"So what does that score mean?"

"Well," he said, as they sat down in the living room, "I'll take it one part at a time. 'I' means that he's an introvert. As you've already noticed, that means he'll tend to be quiet and unassuming, and won't ever become a social butterfly. 'N' means, as he mentioned earlier, that he's an intuitive thinker. 'F' stands for feelings, and means that he's more likely to be interested in how things will affect people emotionally than with the bottom line. And 'P' stands for Perceiver, meaning that he sees things in relative terms, rather than in absolute categories of black and white."

"He mentioned as much earlier," she recalled. "So, how does that affect how we should treat him?"

"For now, I think it would be best if we let him set his own boundaries with us. If he wants to be involved with us on a non-professional basis, he'll say as much."

"Non-professional basis? You make it sound like this is a nine to five job."

"I have a feeling that he may hold that very view about all this for now. He just got here today, Rogue. Allow him a few days to get used to all of us. Besides, we'll all need time to get used to him."

"Well, I noticed that Scott doesn't seem to like him. Any ideas why?"

"I think that Scott's angry because he circumvented our security so easily. Sometimes he takes his job too seriously. And Scott's a very down to earth, practical individual. Archetype seems to take a more philosophical view of his power."

"Given what his power is, does he have a choice?"

"You may have a point. Did he mention anything to you about his background?"

"No, but I didn't ask, either. I don't think that I'm the person to try to look into a mysterious past."

"Because of your own background?"

She nodded affirmatively, then lay back a bit on the couch. "The X-Men have all been really good about my wanting to keep my past private. I owe him the same respect." As she spoke, she noticed Archetype starting up the main flight of stairs. "Hitting the sack early?" she asked him.

"Getting killed in the afternoon tends to tire me out by evening," he replied. "Besides, if my first training session is tomorrow, I want to be well-rested. When's reveille around here?"

"Around seven," Henry told him. "Wolverine is usually up with the sun."

"Well, I'll be up just after five, so I can get a run in. I'll see about breakfast when I'm done. Good night, all." He continued up the stairs.

"Good night," they both echoed after him.

"Well, he had a busy first day," Henry observed.

"No argument there," Rogue replied. "You think he'll fit in here?"

"I don't know, but it'll be interesting finding out."

As Archetype undressed for bed, he noticed that the moon was just rising in the sky. He gazed at it for a moment, turned out the light, then bowed his head slightly, whispering to himself for a moment. His words were inaudible, but the last few words sounded like "At the end of desire." He climbed under the bedsheets, then looked at the moon again.

"Not a bad start," he said to himself. "We'll see how it goes from here. Good night, Mother." He then fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Rogue was not usually an early riser, but the previous night had been warm, and she had opened her window and curtains before going to bed. The temperature had dropped considerably during the night, and she woke up shivering to find that the sun was rising. She was still half-asleep, and held an argument with herself for a moment about whether the effort of getting up to shut the window was really worth it. The desire for warmth held out against the desire for sleep, and so she got up and staggered to the window.

Rogue's window faced the southwest, giving her a good view of Spuyten Dyvil Cove in the distance. The cove was shrouded in mist; the sun had not yet burned away the night's precipitation. She was about to close the drapes and head back to bed for another hour or so of sleep when she noticed a shape moving rapidly along the small peninsula which jutted out into Breakstone Lake. The shape was moving towards the mansion at a good clip.

Rogue quickly shook off her sleepiness; she didn't want to alarm anyone else in the mansion just yet. A few months back, Jubilee had caused a major security panic when she had, while still half-asleep, mistaken a flock of migrating geese for a formation of incoming aircraft. Rogue had a low level of toleration for embarrassment, so she decided to get a closer look before sounding an alert. Rummaging through her closet, she found the binoculars that she sometimes carried with her when she went flying. She then turned back to the window, finding that the shape had moved considerably past the cove, and was nearing the docks. She held up the binoculars and focused on the shape in the distance.

It was Archetype, running at an incredibly rapid speed. Rogue had seen some fast sprinters before, but the only person she had met who moved faster than what she was seeing now was Pietro Maximoff, who was currently working under the name Quicksilver with X-Factor. As she watched, Archetype reached the docks, and moved back towards the mansion.

Rogue, for some reason, felt guilty about watching him. She quickly closed the curtains, and peeked through the space between them. As she observed, Archetype reached the patio at the back of the mansion, and stopped just before it, jogging in place for a few minutes, presumably to cool down. He stood there for a moment, bent over slightly, panting.

As he stood still for a moment, Rogue debated whether or not to reveal her presence to him in some way, finally deciding that some covert observation would be in line with Xavier's instructions to try to gain insight into the personality of the new arrival.

After he had caught his breath, Archetype stood up straight and removed the T-shirt that he had been wearing. Rogue had to suppress a gasp. His back was covered with scars. White tissue crossed his pink skin in a half-dozen different directions.

As she watched, he hopped up the steps of the patio, and went to an oblong box which lay on one of the benches. He threw the shirt onto the bench, and opened the box, removing a sheathed broadsword. He removed the sword from its scabbard, creating a resonant sound.

Through her long association with Logan, Rogue was familiar with most types of Oriental weaponry. The sword which Archetype carried was European in style, double edged, and about a meter long. The stance which he took however, was a classic pose in kendo. She watched him perform several katas, moving soundlessly, seemingly in perfect balance. The sword whistled through the air, making a somewhat chilling sound. The expression on his face was one of complete concentration, shutting out all distraction.

As he finished the maneuvers, he removed a cloth from the case, wiping the blade clean. He then sheathed the sword, placing it back in its box. He picked up the shirt and box, and went into the mansion.

Rogue decided that since she was already up, she might as well face the day. She took her morning shower, then put on a light blouse, jeans, sneakers, and her ubiquitous gloves. Looking at the clock, she saw that she had taken about half an hour. The others would start heading down for breakfast soon, so she decided to get a head start on them. She left her room, heading down to the kitchen.

Where she found Archetype reading the morning paper.

"Morning," he greeted her. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Um, good morning," she replied. "Did you already eat?"

"No, I'm waiting for the water to boil. I was going to poach some eggs, but there's pancake batter in the refrigerator, and the sausage and bacon is being kept warm in the oven. The coffee is brewing, and should be ready in about two minutes."

"I think I'll just have eggs, too. Can I have two poached?"

"No problem." He took off his glasses, got up, walked over to the range, and put on a chef's apron. Three minutes later, Rogue was busily eating eggs and sausage, while Archetype cooked his own breakfast.

"Are you always up this early?" she asked.

"I tend to get my sleep in bits and pieces throughout the day. I actually sleep a bit longer than most people, but it's all divided up into two hours here, a half-hour there. I'm usually up before sunrise. How did you like my performance this morning?"

Rogue choked slightly on her orange juice at that, quickly regaining her composure. "How did you know I was watching you?" she asked him.

"My vision extends into the infrared, remember? I saw your heat signature through the window."

"Oh." She resumed eating. "Are you done with the paper?"

"Yes." He took his eggs out of the water, then sat down to eat. "What's the usual schedule around here, barring an emergency?"

"Well, training sessions are scheduled throughout the morning, and most of us take the early afternoon off. That's when we get any business in town or in our private lives done. We review our information files for the day from three to five, eat around seven, and hit bed around ten or eleven. As long as we don't bother anyone else or miss our training and duty time, we pretty much can come and go as we please. If you want a leave of absence, you ask the Professor."

He nodded. "All right. I'll keep that in mind. Good morning, Miss Munroe," he said, as Ororo appeared in the doorway leading to the front hall, clad in one of her dashikis.

"Good morning. Have you two been up long?"

"I just came down," Rogue replied.

"And I've been up for a while," Archetype added. "Would you like some pancakes?"

"Yes, please."

Archetype pulled a large bowl of pancake batter from the refrigerator, and started pouring some into the greased pan. While the pancakes were cooking, he took a small pitcher from the cabinet, filled it with maple syrup, and placed it in the pot of boiling water where he had poached the eggs earlier.

"Will breakfast be like this every morning, or are you trying to bribe us into accepting you?" Ororo teased him.

"To be honest, a little bit of both," he admitted with a wry smile. "The truth of the matter is that I love to cook, and it's been a long time since I've done it for anyone but myself. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it was." He flipped the pancakes, glancing over at Rogue. "Will the others be coming down soon?"

"Yep," she replied. "The main wave should be down any minute."

"Would you be kind enough to take the bacon and sausage out of the oven, then?"

"No problem." As she did so, Bobby and Logan came down. "What's with the spread?" Logan asked.

"I'm lulling you into a false sense of security," Archetype replied.

"Will we eat like this every day while you're doing the cooking?" Bobby asked.

"I suppose I could arrange it."

"Consider me lulled. Somebody pass the pancakes."

"How about you?" Archetype asked Logan.

"Can you manage a Texas one-eye stack?"

"Coming right up." As he placed another pan on the range, Warren came in. "What is this, _The Frugal Gourmet_?"

"I have a bit more hair than he does," Archetype replied. "Sit on down and dig in."

"What's a Texas one-eye stack?" Ororo asked Logan.

"A stack of flapjacks with a sunny-side-up egg on top."

"Sounds good," Bobby observed.

"Haven't had one in a long time. Last time was during the road trip I took with Alex."

"Alex?" Archetype asked, with a puzzled look. "Have I met him?"

"He's not based at the mansion anymore," Betsy supplied as she walked in, dressed in a dark blue

robe.

"Ah. Onward and upward?"

"He works for the government," Ororo supplied.

"A government operative? Val never mentioned him."

"There are several things about us that Val did not mention," Xavier said from the doorway.

"Hail, hail, the gang's all here," Warren yawned as he came in..

"I'm not quite here yet," Henry said sleepily from behind Xavier. "Let me get some coffee into me first."

"Any final requests for breakfast before I close up shop?"

"No sir," said Henry, "I shall be more than happy with the banquet which has been laid before me."

"Thank you, Doctor McCoy," Archetype said, bowing slightly.

"Are you ready for your Danger Room session today?" Xavier asked him.

"As ready as I suppose I can be. What time will it be?"

"You're scheduled for ten. We're setting your session at a low level of difficulty. You'll be perfectly safe."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that, Charles." Everyone turned to see Scott and Jean enter the kitchen. "The man _is_ immortal, after all. What could happen?"

"Quite a bit could happen, Mister Summers," Archetype replied. "It's true that I have not yet been in a situation where I have been permanently injured. However, I would say that it's a safe bet that you will be able to find many more imaginative ways of snuffing out my brief candle than I can even think of. Part of my reason for being here is to determine just what my limits are, because I could wind up being very dangerous if my other abilities go haywire while I'm injured. If anything happens to me that is beyond the scope of my ability to repair within a reasonable period of time, you have facilities here that can sustain me while I continue to heal, and, more importantly, three telepaths who can suppress my abilities during that time." He took off the apron, hanging it on a hook on the wall. "Well, I'm going back to my room for a while. I want to meditate for a bit. Hopefully, I can get a bit more focused before my session." He started towards the stairs, then stopped, returning to the table. "Forgot my glasses," he said, picking them up. He went back through the doorway, then stopped in mid stride, turning back towards them again. "I just realized that I have absolutely no idea where this 'Danger Room' is," he said sheepishly.

Xavier smiled at that. "We'll have somebody take you there."

"Thank you." He turned around again and walked out of sight.

"We're going to have to get used to that, I'm afraid," Henry said ruefully.

"Get used to what?" Logan asked him.

"Because of his condition, he has to deal with a lot more information at any given time than an ordinary person would. He acts on his intuition, because he almost never has a full picture of the situation.

He'll tend to forget things easily, too. We might want to consider factoring in extra training time with that it mind. Redundancy would be a big help."

"Well, we have enough time to get Scott's session in beforehand," said Xavier. "Let's get moving, everyone."

Warren knocked on the door to Archetype's room at a quarter to ten. When he received no answer, he went in, and stopped quickly, doing a double take.

The room had been totally redecorated. Filled bookshelves lined all free wall space, and a huge roll top desk was in one corner, joined with an overstuffed swivel chair. A full-length mirror was standing near the desk. An art-deco lamp stood beside the computer desk which had been placed in the opposite corner. As he walked in, Warren almost stumbled into the coat rack which had been placed beside the door.

Archetype lay on the bed, which had been moved to the only open wall space left in the room. He was flat on his back, dressed in a dark blue sweat suit, with his eyes closed. _He's probably resting up,_ Warren thought. He walked to the side of the bed, placing his hand on Archetype's shoulder to shake him awake.

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, the air had been pushed out from his lungs, and Archetype was looming over him, his right hand clawed like a hook just inches from Warren's throat.

A look of chagrin crossed Archetype's face, and he released his hold on Warren. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little tense about this test." He helped Warren up, and dusted him off. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How do you move so fast?"

"Some of my abilities are subconscious. When I felt your hand on me, I went into overdrive. Instead of compressing distance, I was compressing time. Come on. I suppose that the others are waiting." He put on a pair of gloves that were lying on the night stand.

As they walked to the elevator, Warren asked "Can you move backwards in time?"

Archetype shook his head. "No. And compressing time is a bit of a strain. I can't do it for very long, only enough to make some sort of defensive move. It's not something that I'd want to be dependent on in a pinch." He paused for a moment. "Can you give me any suggestions that might prove useful for this?"

"Not really. I wasn't involved with designing the session. That was between Hank and the Professor. All I can tell you is to be careful."

"Thanks for the advice," Archetype said dryly, as the elevator stopped and the doors opened to the second sub-basement level of the mansion complex. As they exited, Archetype gaped at the Shiar-based technology which filled the room, ranging from holographic displays to weapons systems. "I'm not even going to ask where this all came from," he said. "I don't think I'd be able to handle the answer."

"Follow me," Warren said as they entered the control room area of the Danger Room. Jean, Ororo, Logan, and Henry were busily monitoring Scott, who was down in the Danger Room proper, firing his optic blasts at a series of moving targets. Archetype looked down through the control room window at Scott. "Very impressive," he noted.

"The technology or the man?" Jean asked him.

"Both," he answered. "I will, however, admit to being biased towards the human element." As he spoke, Scott fired a blast through a set of three rings, arrayed in a straight line, which were each rotating at a different rate. The blast went through the openings in the rings cleanly, without hitting the rings themselves.

"Amazing," Archetype marveled. "His ability to predict spatial location is phenomenal."

"That's it, Scott," Xavier spoke into a microphone. Scott nodded and entered a doorway directly beneath them. A few seconds later, he walked through a set of elevator doors adjacent to the control room.

"How'd I do?" he asked Logan.

"Totally clean."

"Good. Are you ready?" he asked Archetype.

"As ready as I suppose I can be."

"All right," Xavier said. "The object of this exercise is to reach and press the red control button which will be directly in front of you. Doing so will open the door which will let you out."

"And the room will do whatever it can to stop me, I suppose."

"Correct."

"Will a weapon be required for this exercise?"

Xavier looked doubtful for a moment. "Nothing at this setting can truly hurt you, but if you feel more comfortable being armed, I have no objection."

"To be honest, I feel undressed when I'm unarmed."

"Will you be using that pig-sticker you were using this morning?" Logan asked him.

"That would be my preferred weapon, yes."

"We can wait a few minutes while you get it," Xavier told him.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary." Archetype's brow furrowed in concentration for a moment, and the box that Rogue had seen him with earlier appeared on the floor in front of him. He opened it, removing the sheathed sword that he had used earlier, . He made some adjustments to the strap of the scabbard, and slung the sword over his back so that the hilt of the sword was behind his right shoulder. He looked at Xavier again. "All I need to do is press the button, right?"

"Right. As soon as the elevator door opens, the exercise will begin. You will be timed."

"All right." He stepped into the elevator. Xavier pressed a button, and the elevator began its descent.

"Think he'll try the same stunt that Kitty pulled?" Logan asked the room.

"We've seen no evidence that he can become intangible," Xavier replied. "I doubt that he can."

"All set," said Archetype's voice from the intercom. He could be seen in the monitor which displayed the security view of the elevator.

"The test will begin in five seconds... three... two... _one_." The door to the Danger Room opened.

Archetype saw the button in front of him. _One_.

He moved his arm forward. _Two_.

The button registered as being triggered. _Three_.

Jean looked up from her monitor, stunned. "He's done."

The others all looked at her. "_What?_" they said in unison.

"He triggered the button." They looked at her monitor. She was right - the computer registered the scenario as over. They heard Archetype's voice over the intercom:

"_Next!_"

"I don't get it," Scott said. "How did you get through that so quickly?"

"Do we have a recording of the session?" Archetype asked. They had all moved to the de-briefing room, after a few arguments from Scott that there _had _to be something wrong with the program.

Xavier typed a command into the interface which linked the room with the Danger Room computer. "Coming up now."

They all saw, on the opposite wall, an image of the Danger Room as seen from the top. "Can you modify the image so that our point of view is parallel to the wall which I was facing?" Archetype asked.

Xavier nodded. "Wait one moment." The perspective of the wall shifted suddenly, showing the entrance at the top of the screen, on its side, and the trigger button on the bottom.

"Now play the recording," Archetype instructed. "Look at the bottom of the screen."

There was nothing for two seconds. Then there was a flash of black, and the button was depressed. "What was that shadow?" asked Warren.

"Get a close up on that image," Archetype continued, "and, if you can, show me in the elevator at the same time." Xavier typed at the keyboard for a few moments, and the wall became a split screen, showing the view of the Danger Room on the left, and of Archetype in the elevator on the right.

"Now rewind both images back and replay at slow motion."

"What speed?" asked Xavier.

"One-tenth should do it."

"All right. Playing at one-tenth speed." The image of the Danger Room remained static. After about seven seconds, however, Archetype's figure accelerated to a normal rate of speed. After fifteen seconds, one of his Doors appeared about fifteen inches in front of him. Another one appeared about three inches in front of the trigger button. It took around three seconds for Archetype to start moving his arm into the doorway in front of him. His hand disappeared into the door, reappearing at the same instant, and at the same rate of movement, as it came out of the doorway in front of the button. By twenty-four seconds, his hand had depressed the button, and he had removed his hand from the doorways by twenty-eight seconds. By thirty seconds, both doorways were closed.

"Any questions?" asked Archetype.

"How'd you move so quickly?" Logan queried.

"I folded space-time."

"Your reactions were accelerated as well." Henry said.

"Yes. When I place myself in a faster time rate, all my metabolic and mental functions are increased. That allows me time to plan my actions."

"How does that affect you physically?" Jean asked him.

"Well, I put on the gloves for a reason. If I hadn't been wearing them, my hand would have windburn."

"You'd heal from that, though," Scott pointed out.

"True, but why hurt myself when I don't have to? If we were in a combat situation, I'd wear the gloves, if for no other reason than to avoid being distracted by pain."

"What about your face?"

"Doesn't seem to be as susceptible to damage for some reason. I have no idea why."

"Can you do that while holding another person?" Xavier asked him.

"I can't give you an answer, because I've never tried it. If I were to test that, I think it would have to be with someone who couldn't get hurt anyway. If I were to try to move Mr. Drake in that manner, for example, I might melt him. And it would have to be someone that I could lift physically, which would place most of the male members of the team out of contention. I can't lift something and move it at accelerated speed at the same time."

"Maybe a weightlifting program would help in that department," Logan told him. "I can get you started on one today."

"Sounds reasonable," Archetype replied. "It might be best if we fit it into the afternoon, though. I do my daily run in the morning, and I'll need time to recover my strength."

"That raises a question," Xavier pointed out. "Rogue told me about your run this morning. Was what she was seeing your maximum speed?"

"Not even close," he replied. "That was what could best be termed my cruising speed. I haven't really been able to clock myself with any accuracy. When I compress distance, time becomes a little skewed for me. Everything moves in slow motion, and by the time I approach normal time again, enough time has passed that I can't get a proper reading. Maybe you guys have something that can overcome the problem."

"We'll set up an electric eye, and have you do a full circuit of the mansion grounds," Henry assured him. "Just be careful when you're near the gate."

Archetype nodded. "I'm aware that by most rights, I cheated. I'd like to go through that session again, using only my physical abilities this time, so you can see just what my combat abilities will be like. I'm aware of my weaknesses in combat, and I'd like to work on them."

Xavier nodded. "Fair enough. If you'll head down again, we'll restart the sequence." Archetype got up, and headed through the door back to the elevator. A few minutes later, Xavier was counting down to one again.

When the door opened this time, Archetype came out very slowly, looking warily at everything around him. He took one step forward, and slowly came out of the elevator, standing where the edge of the elevator met the floor.

"This run is a modification of the one Kitty did, right, Chuck?" Logan asked.

"Yes. I saw no reason to intensify the danger level for a trial run. I've switched a few things around, but it's basically the same program."

They continued to watch as Archetype continued walking farther into the Danger Room. "He'll hit the coils first," Xavier told the others. As if on cue, two steel coils, tipped with prehensile 'fingers', emerged from the walls on either side of Archetype and moved towards him. Before they reached him, however, he drew his sword with a quick motion and sliced off the top three feet of each coil. He then continued to move forward, safely out of the reach of the severed coils, which continued to flail uselessly in the air.

"That went well," Logan said with a grimace.

"We'll see how he does with the muffins," Henry replied.

"The muffins" was a nickname that Kitty had given to the barrage of dense foam cushions which flew out from the wall. Before he reached the trigger panel for the sequence, however, Archetype stopped and cocked his head, as if listening for something. He then sheathed his sword, unbuckled the scabbard, and then lay on his stomach, placing the scabbard on top of his arms. He splayed his arms out on either side of him, and pushed himself along the floor. When he did set off the trigger to the muffins, they passed harmlessly above him, with a margin of about six inches to spare. He continued to stay on the floor.

"He's using a standard low crawl," Logan remarked.

"I noticed," Xavier replied. "If he keeps moving like that, he'll avoid the sandwich." The sandwich, another term coined by Kitty, referred to the twin pile drivers, coated with padding, which emerged from their holographic hiding places in the walls and barreled towards Archetype, missing him just as the muffins had. He did, however, have a bit of difficulty moving beneath the padding, since he had only a few centimeters in which to maneuver. He wriggled out from underneath the padding, stretching somewhat when he stood up. He strode towards the door confidently.

"He's not noticing the trapdoor," Scott said, with a smile in his voice. "He won't make it."

About two feet from the trapdoor, however, Archetype stopped suddenly, as if reacting to a loud sound. As he did so, both Jean and Xavier made a similar reaction. They looked at one another. "Did you hear that too?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied. "Do you have any idea what it was?"

"No," she replied, "but it was _big_." They returned their attention to the scene before them. Archetype looked at the door for a few seconds, then drew his sword again. He held the hilt in both hands so that the blade was pointed downward, raised it above his head, then jammed it about eighteen inches into the floor. He then stepped back about one meter, took one bouncy step, then leaped onto the hilt of the sword, keeping one foot balanced on the crosspiece as he continued forward, falling towards the wall. He slammed both hands against the wall, stopping his momentum. He then struck his hand against the trigger button. He rolled into a ball as the door opened, tumbling into the elevator.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "What was his time?"

"Just under four minutes," Logan replied.

"Still a very respectable time for a neophyte," Henry concluded. "For someone who hasn't received any formal training, he did very well." As he finished, Archetype came out of the elevator.

"Just what the devil was that noise?" Xavier asked him before he was out of the elevator.

Archetype looked shocked. "You mean you heard it, too?"

"Psionically, you made as much noise as a thunderclap," Jean informed him. "What was all that about?"

He shrugged. "It pretty much added up to one word. _No_. Like I told you last night, I tend to be an intuitive thinker. I sometimes get flashes of insight, telling me whether something is a good idea or not. I was about to step onto that plate when I realized that what I was about to do was incredibly stupid. What was on that thing, anyway?"

"A trapdoor," Henry answered. "You would have fallen into a holding cell below."

Archetype looked thoughtful for a moment. "That does make a bit of sense."

"You just lost me," Scott told him. "_What_ makes a bit of sense?"

"I've developed a few theories regarding my abilities. I'm still working my way through them. I'd rather not discuss them until I've had some more time to think about it." He looked at Xavier. "Maybe some practice in learning how to make my abilities quieter is in order. If I made as much noise as you say I did, that could be a liability during an operation."

"We'll fit it in," Xavier assured him. "Why don't you go wash up?"

"I'd be glad to," he replied, "just as soon as someone directs me to the showers."

"I'll do it," Warren offered. He and Archetype left the room.

"Well?" Xavier asked when Warren had rejoined them in the de-briefing room, next door to the Danger Room control area.

"Well what?" Warren replied.

"It was meant as a question for everyone, Warren," Xavier told him. "What did you all think of his performance?"

"He's never received any military training?" Scott asked.

"Not as far as Val could tell, and she has some of the best sources on the planet."

"Of all the weapons he could use, why a sword?" Jean asked.

"Probably because swords have been used for thousands of years. Guns have only been in use for about five hundred. If he draws on the collective consciousness for his abilities, he has a greater pool of knowledge and experience to draw from if he uses an older weapon."

"Makes sense," Logan grumbled. "We'll have to train him on a firearm ourselves, then. I'll take care of that, along with the weightlifting program."

"While Jean and I take care of helping him find some way to reduce the amount of psychic noise he creates," Xavier said. "I wonder what kind of defenses he has."

"The fact that he's so difficult to scan could be considered a defense in itself," Jean mused. "That's only a passive defense, though. We'll have to work on active ones. What's he doing now, Warren?"

"He's back down there," he replied. "He wanted to get some of his own training time in, so I set up a pile of breaking blocks for him. I left him alone. He doesn't seem to be used to working with an audience."

"Well, we don't have to disturb him," Xavier said. He typed on the keyboard, and the wall showed an image of the Danger Room again. Archetype was setting up a stack of seven concrete blocks in front of him. He stood still for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. When he opened his eyes again, he took a step forward, inhaled deeply, and struck swiftly, breaking all seven blocks. There was a slight flickering of the screen as he did so, like a burst of static.

"Nice form," Logan remarked. "What's with the scars?"

"Rogue had noticed them earlier," Xavier said. "They look like burn scars."

"Remnants of his injury, maybe?" Warren suggested.

"Could be," Henry said. "There's something I wanted to mention to you, Charles. He indicated to me earlier that he's very shy. I doubt we're going to get much from him in a formal briefing."

"Maybe," Xavier admitted. "It may be a good idea for some of us to talk with him outside the mansion." He tapped the intercom button on the panel. "Rogue?"

_"Yes, Professor?"_ her voice answered.

"Would you and Robert be opposed to taking Archetype out for dinner tonight?"

_"No problem,"_ she replied. _"Any agenda in mind?"_

"Just see if you can get him to open up a bit. The more we know about his personality, the more we'll be able to help him learn about his abilities, since they seem to be mental in nature."

_"All right. We'll take him out to the usual place for the traditional X-Men welcoming feast. See you later."_

Xavier looked confused for a moment. "The usual place?"

The others looked at one another with a twinkle in their eyes, then back at Xavier.

"Harry's," they said in unison.


	5. Chapter 5

Rogue knocked lightly on the door to Peter's - no, _Archetype's_ room. She cursed silently, reminding herself that Peter was no longer the occupant. "Come in," she heard from the other side. She opened the door and went through.

Archetype was seated at his computer, busily typing away. He glanced up at her. "Hello, Rogue," he said politely, taking off his glasses.

She looked at him. "Why don't you wear contacts?"

"What, and ruin my secret identity?" He smiled at her chuckle.

"What are you writing?" she asked him.

"Something I've been working on for a while now. It can wait. What's up?"

"We're taking you out to eat. It's an X-Men tradition."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"Harry's Hideaway. It's been the X-Men's watering hole for years."

He nodded. "All right. Give me a few minutes to get changed." He reached behind the desk, pulling out a straight cane, which he leaned on as he got out of the chair.

"Did you hurt yourself?" she asked him.

"It's an old injury," he said. "Sometimes it acts up. I think I strained it during my Danger Room session earlier. I'll be fine," he assured her. "Be down in a few minutes." She nodded and left, meeting Bobby at the front door.

"What's keeping him?" Bobby asked.

"He wanted to get changed." She had already changed into a matching skirt and blouse, both in her trademark green. Bobby wore a turtleneck and jeans.

He nodded. "What was he doing?"

"Working on his computer. He settled in pretty quickly."

"Home is where you hang your hat, Rogue," she heard behind her. She turned around to find Archetype stepping out from behind the staircase.

"How'd you get down here so fast?" Bobby asked.

He shrugged. "The elevator." He had changed into a pair of light blue jeans, with a grey shirt and black denim vest. He also wore gloves, and was still leaning on his cane. The overall effect was to make him look older. "Are we all ready?"

"All set," Bobby replied.

"Let's go, then." He reached out at the air in front of him, and his jacket appeared in his hand. He put it on, opened the door, and motioned for Rogue to go first. She smiled and walked out, Bobby and Archetype following in turn.

As she and Bobby headed towards the garage, Archetype spoke up. "Um, excuse me, but isn't the road that way?" he said, pointing with his cane.

"Yeah, but the garage is this way," Bobby said.

"True, but I passed Harry's when I walked here before. It's only about three kilos away. Why drive?"

"Because it's three kilos away," Bobby replied.

"Let me get this straight," Archetype said, leaning on his cane. "You spend three hours a day in physical training, and you're all built like fitness ads, but you won't walk an easy three kilos? Why spend all that time in the gym, when the real world has enough physical challenges for you?"

"He's got a point, Bobby," Rogue said. "Besides, it's a nice night. Let's walk."

"All right," Bobby sighed. He joined them on the road which led to Graymalkin Lane. They made good time, Rogue realized, since Archetype, even with the cane, moved at a brisk pace.

"Your leg seems to be feeling better," she remarked.

"It improves if I walk it off," he replied. He looked at Bobby. "I can shorten the trip if you want."

"How?"

"The same way I got here yesterday. I'll fold space-time."

"Is it safe?"

"Totally. It'll look a little strange, though."

"Just what do you mean by strange?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

He frowned for a moment. "Ever watch a car as it came towards you?" When they nodded, he continued. "Did you notice that, if the car was moving fast, it seemed to flatten out slightly?"

"Yeah," Bobby replied doubtfully.

"Well, everything's going to look like that for the next few minutes. Well," he amended, "everything but us."

"How long will it take us to get there, then?" Rogue asked him.

"About ten minutes," he said. "I won't compress things too much."

"All right," Bobby said, "let's get moving, then."

"Just one moment, Mister Drake." Archetype furrowed his brow for a second, and everything

seemed to dim. "We're ready now." He started walking towards Graymalkin Lane, which seemed to be approaching very quickly as they followed him.

"Will anybody see us?" Rogue asked him.

"No," he replied. "We're appearing in normal space, but for only a fraction of an instant at any given time, faster than the time which the brain needs to process new information. No one will notice us. I'll put us back in normal space somewhere where we won't be noticed for a moment, so people will think we had just walked in." By the time he had finished his sentence, they were on Graymalkin Lane and heading towards town.

"Have you ever had any problem with the people in town?" he asked them.

"Nothing we haven't been able to handle," Bobby replied. "We're far enough away to keep the curious away, but we show up often enough to remind them that we're still around. We've never been in any trouble, if that's what you mean."

He nodded. "I just wanted to know if there was anything I should be aware of. Should I simply say that I'm a resident at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning if asked?"

"That should work," Rogue said. "If it doesn't, you can just fake a really strong accent, and make like a lost foreigner."

"Sounds fair. This the place?" he asked as they approached Harry's.

"That's it," she confirmed.

"Let me put us back in normal space. Let's go over there," he said, pointing towards an area of the parking lot that was only dimly lighted. They entered the shadows, and Archetype closed his eyes for a moment. The light around them became slightly brighter. "We're _baaack_," he said in an eerie voice.

"Cute," Bobby said dryly.

"I rather liked it," Archetype replied brightly as they went inside.

Harry's was rather crowded for a weeknight. The reason why was evident, as the band on the stage was being met with cheers and applause. Archetype winced slightly as he removed his jacket. "Something wrong?" Rogue asked him.

"My hearing is pretty sensitive. That's a bit too loud for my comfort."

"The booths over there are quieter," she said, pointing to the opposite corner of the taproom.

"Why don't we go over there, then?" They found a booth where the noise level was considerably lower. "What's on the menu here?" he asked.

"It's a pretty standard grill menu," Bobby replied. "The waitress will tell us what tonight's specials are." A few minutes later, they put in their orders. Bobby and Rogue ordered their usuals, while Archetype ordered potato skins and a mushroom cheeseburger with a cola.

"You don't drink?" Bobby asked him. He and Rogue were sharing a pitcher of beer.

Archetype shook his head. "It's hard enough for me to maintain my concentration when I'm sober. I don't need intoxication added to the mix. In any case, I never acquired a taste for alcohol."

Bobby smiled. "That should frustrate Wolvie's plans for male bonding."

Archetype smirked. "And I hate most organized sports."

"Oh boy, you're gonna be in _real_ trouble with him, then. He goes nuts around Super Bowl time."

"Oh, I'll just stay in the kitchen and make snacks for everybody. That should get me off the hook."

"So what do you do for hobbies?" Rogue asked him.

"Well, like I told you earlier, I do a lot of reading. I also do some writing on the side. I do a lot of traveling..."

"Your way or the usual way?" Bobby interrupted.

"The usual way. I'll decide on the spur of the moment to go somewhere and then I usually just go to the airport and take whatever the next available international flight is. I play it by ear from there. When I get sick of living out of a suitcase, I go to my nearest safehouse and rest up."

"If you're so rich, why not just take a private plane?" Rogue asked him.

"Calls too much attention. Besides, I prefer not to throw my money around if I can help it. I prefer to just go with the flow." He stopped talking as the waitress returned with their orders. "Either of you want one?" he said, gesturing to the potato skins. Rogue and Bobby took one each. Archetype put some steak sauce on his burger and dug in.

"Well, enough about me," he said. "How about I learn something about you two?"

"Like what?" Bobby asked.

He shrugged. "I know why I'm here. Why did you two join this outfit?"

That question prompted a discussion about the history of the X-Men. Archetype seemed to accept most of it, although he looked a bit disbelieving at certain points.

"Let me make sure I understand this," he asked Rogue. "You really _did_ die that night in Dallas?"

"All the X-Men that were there did," she informed him.

"I'll take your word for it," he said dubiously. Then he raised an eyebrow. "I must say, though, that you're the most voluptuous corpse that I've seen in some time." Then he winced.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked him.

"That lead guitar. It's so out of tune it's pathetic. I'll be right back." He got up and walked over to the stage, where the band was taking its break.

"Well, he's certainly a flirt," Bobby said to Rogue after he was out of earshot.

"Yeah, but it's a nice sort of flirting," she replied with a smile.

"There's an explanation for that, I suppose."

Rogue thought for a moment. "There are two ways that a guy can flirt with a girl. They sort of reflect the approach that he wants to take with her. The first way is more common - the old lines, the obvious ploys - and a girl can spot them a mile away, because she's seen them all before." She paused for a moment. "I think that the other way, being a nice flirt, means walking a very fine line. You have to compliment a woman's looks without making her feel that they're the only reason you're interested in her. "

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "You think he's interested?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. But he doesn't seem to mind using the compliments anyway. They seem to let him fill up the space in a conversation. You _did_ see how nervous he was looking ?"

He nodded. "I don't think he's looking out for anybody. He told us himself that he's worked alone for a long time. I don't think he's used to dealing with large numbers of people. You said that he considers himself an introvert."

"That's true," she conceded. "And Jean and Betsy have had problems in crowds before. If his powers are psychic, maybe he has a similar problem."

"Could be." He nodded towards Archetype, who was talking with the guitarist of the band as he tuned the offending instrument. "Did you get any clue as to the music he prefers?"

She shook her head. "No. He seems like an oldies type, though. Looks like he convinced the band to let him play a set." She had noticed that he was getting on the stage with the rest of the band.

"What do you think? Beatles? Stones?"

Archetype played the opening riff. Rogue and Bobby looked at each other.

_"Metallica?"_

* * *

"Why didn't you tell us you could play an instrument?" Bobby asked him as they walked out of Harry's about an hour later.

Archetype shrugged. "There wasn't any room on the application. Besides, I didn't really think it had any practical use for the sorts of things that you guys do. What would I use it for? Serenading the Juggernaut to sleep? Getting the female supervillans to start swooning and fainting?" He snapped his fingers. "I've _got_ it! You guys need _theme music!_"

"You, my friend, are out of your mind," Bobby informed him.

"Oh, we're all mad here," he replied gleefully. "I'm mad, you're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" Rogue replied, remembering the lines from _Alice in Wonderland_.

"You must be," Archetype said, "or you wouldn't have come here."

"You got that right, asshole," said a voice behind them. They turned around to find four young men, who appeared to be in their late teens, standing before them. Their dress and mannerisms suggested that they had each spent some time under the watchful eyes of the state at one time or another.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Archetype asked mildly.

"Your money... _now_," one of the teens said, in as close to a menacing tone his warbling voice could get.

"Now isn't this just a bit cliched?" Archetype asked them. "Late at night, a deserted street... next thing you'll tell me is that you're all carrying guns."

The apparent leader of the group pulled out a Glock-7. "Gods," Archetype said, covering his eyes with one hand. "Why must the young always show such a lack of imagination?" He looked up at the sky, raising his hands as if imploring.

He then swept his right arm down in a flash, striking his cane on the outstretched arm of the punk. Rogue heard the _crack! _as the young man's arm broke. He fell to his knees, moaning in pain. Archetype was moving before the young man had fully fallen to his knees, striking one of remaining four in the stomach with the head of the cane, then downing another with a leg sweep. He placed his foot on the neck of one of the fallen, then looked at the two would-be assailants who were still standing. "Are you two ready for more of the same?" he asked them. They bolted. He then stooped down beside the young man who had pulled the gun, picking it up by the tip of the barrel. "I'll dispose of this if you don't mind," he told the punk. He then looked at Rogue and Bobby. "You two coming?" he asked them.

They followed him, not knowing what else to do or say. After a few minutes of walking, Rogue finally spoke up. "Just _how_ did you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked.

"Break that guy's arm!"

"Oh. Would you hold this, please?" he asked Bobby, handing the cane to him.

"Sure." Bobby took it, and almost dropped it again as soon as Archetype had let go. It weighed a ton. "Jesus Christ!" Bobby swore. "What is this thing made of?"

"Well, the outside is a wood veneer, but the core is solid brass." He took the cane back, then looked at both of them. "Two things to remember. One: hardly anything is what it seems. Two: like I told Xavier earlier today, I'm _never_ unarmed. Shall we head back?" he said, moving in the general direction of the mansion.

"What are you going to do with the gun?" Bobby asked.

Archetype thought about it for a second. "If I throw this up in the air, can you freeze it?"

"No problem. How cold do you want it?"

"Cold enough for the steel to crack. After that," he said, looking at Rogue, "it's all yours." He tossed the gun into the air.

Bobby froze the gun on its way down, and Rogue shattered it with one blow. "Not bad," Archetype said.

As they made their way back, one of the streetlights that they walked under burned out. "Not _again_," Archetype groaned.

"Something wrong?" Rogue asked him.

He pointed to the streetlight with his cane. "You just saw the reason why you don't want me around the computers for very long. Let's get going."


	6. Chapter 6

"He seems to use deception to gain a tactical edge," Henry remarked after Bobby and Rogue had briefed the other senior team members on the events of that evening.

Rogue nodded. "I don't think there was ever anything wrong with his leg. He used the cane to carry a weapon in plain sight. I doubt he'll use the same trick in front of us again, though."

"You're probably right," Logan replied. "He's more likely to use it in public, when we have to go incognito. For a guy with no training, he seems to know what he's doing. What was his fighting style like?"

Bobby frowned. "Nothing definable. It was actually pretty standard stuff - leg sweeps, blocks, stuff like that. He knew how to use that cane, though. Reminded me of your stick fighting style, Ororo."

Ororo shook her head. "I don't think that's possible, Robert. I learned how to fight like that when I was a girl, as a thief with Achmed on the streets of Cairo, and he only taught it to his prize pupils. Archetype could not have learned it."

"Now that we know about his combat skills in more detail, maybe he'll agree to a demonstration," Xavier mused. He punched the intercom button on his desk. "Xavier to Archetype."

There was a brief pause, then Archetype's voice came over the speaker. "_Yes, Xavier?_"

"Would you be opposed to a demonstration of your stick fighting skills?"

"_Not at all. What sort of setting?_"

"How about a one-on-one against Storm?"

Another pause. "_All right. Advise her to wear some form of protective clothing. And some headgear with a face mask. Archetype out_."

Ororo frowned. "Why would I need a face mask?"

* * *

Two minutes into the combat session, Ororo understood why.

It had started simply enough. Archetype, who had walked in wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, had simply deflected whatever strikes Ororo used against him, declining obvious openings for offensive moves. At one point, she got through his defenses, striking with a rather nasty crack against the back of his legs. He buckled slightly at that point, falling to his knees without a sound.

He stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, not moving. Ororo was afraid that she had seriously hurt him. He then opened his eyes, looking at her.

"Come now, little one. You can do better than that," he said to her in Egyptian, his eyes glowing.

Ororo was suddenly filled with an irrational anger. She _was_ good enough! She could _prove_ it! She would _not_ be laughed at again! She gritted her teeth and pressed her attack, which Archetype parried easily. He then jumped out of her range.

"Here. I will make it easier for you," he continued in a taunting tone. He drew the sweatband which he was wearing over his eyes, effectively blindfolding himself. "Surely you can hit a defenseless target." Ororo gritted her teeth and closed in for a strike.

Archetype moved in a flash, parrying her thrust. He followed through on the move, reversing the position of his stick, thrusting the opposite end of the stick directly towards her face. Despite the fact that she was wearing a face mask, Ororo flinched involuntarily. Archetype took advantage of her temporary loss of bearing by leaping to his feet. As he did so, he altered the direction of his thrust so that the first foot of the stick whizzed right through where Ororo would have been. He then swept her right leg with his left, while simultaneously pushing her off balance by sweeping his stick to the right. Ororo, who was usually as graceful as a cat, landed unceremoniously on the floor in a sprawl.

Archetype thrusted downward with his stick at a point about three inches away from Ororo's nose. The stick impacted with enough force to splinter.

"Had I not altered my point of aim," he told her matter of factly, now speaking English, "your cranium would now be ventilated." He removed the sweatband, then helped her to her feet. "Good match, though."

"Yes, thank you," Ororo replied absently, as she struggled to regain her bearings.

Archetype looked up at Xavier and Henry, who were visible from the observation window. "Any objections if I call it a night?" he asked them.

"No," Xavier replied in a weary voice. "We'll start you on psionic training in the morning at eight-thirty. Good night."

"Night."

* * *

"All right, Storm," Scott asked her, "just what happened down there? You _never_ lose your temper in the middle of a training session like that."

"I'm not entirely sure myself," she replied thoughtfully. "With a few words, he made me feel like I was an eight-year old again, back in Cairo, still under the training of Achmed. My responses were the same as they were back then. For that matter," she grimaced, "so was the end result. Achmed used to beat me just as easily as Archetype just did. By the way, Bobby was right. His technique is very similar to my own, although there were a few moves I was unfamiliar with. His fighting style seems to be a synthesis of many differing combat techniques."

"He also seems to be very skilled at using psychological techniques to gain an edge in combat," Henry remarked.

"That's hardly surprising, given the fact that he holds an associates degree in counseling psychology," Xavier replied. "One of my sources informed me this afternoon."

"Does he have a specialty?" Hank asked.

"His background seems to be a bit eclectic. He took the classes here and there over a period of years. His background is Jungian, but he seems to be very well informed about his own condition - attention deficit disorder. He attends most of the lectures on the subject in this country."

"Is he licensed?"

"Not in New York."

"Chef, counselor... he seems to have had a lot of schooling," Jean observed.

"He's a dabbler," Scott grunted. "Doesn't follow through on anything."

"Do you have any evidence to support that conclusion, Scott?" Xavier asked him evenly.

"No," Scott replied glumly. "Look, Charles, I'll be honest with you. I don't like him... and I can't tell you why. He hasn't said or done anything which should make me suspicious - but I still am. His attitude just grates on me."

"Because it's so different from your own?" Hank asked him.

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Archetype is very casual about the use of his abilities. He's used them to acquire wealth and power, but as far as we've been able to find, he doesn't throw his weight around. He just coasts along, allowing events to happen around him. He hasn't taken a direct role in the affairs of anything until recently."

"That's exactly it," Scott said. "Why hasn't he done anything with his power and wealth to help mutants?"

"Because he's not a mutant, Scott."

Scott was taken aback by that. "Then where do his abilities come from?"

Hank shrugged. "I don't know yet. I asked him to give me a cell sample this morning so I could study his genetic structure. He's not a mutant - not in our sense of the term, anyway. His A.D.D. is due to a mutation, but it's not on the X-factor gene. That gene isn't active in his system. His abilities _could_ be magical in nature, but I need more time to determine if that's true or not."

"If he's not a mutant, then why does he want to join the X-Men?"

"Why don't we just take what he said to us at face value, Scott?" Ororo asked him. "He wants to make a difference, and he thinks that he'd be most effective with us."

"Whatever his motives are," Xavier said, "We really don't have any choice but to keep him around. If the psychic energy that I felt during his Danger Room session was any indicator of his ability, then he's far too dangerous an individual to be going around untrained. Valerie was right. He's a powerful weapon, and we have to make sure that he's under control."

* * *

The next morning, Archetype entered Xavier's study at precisely eight-thirty. "How do you want to do this?" he asked Xavier.

"Just sit down and relax," he was advised. "We aren't going to start out with anything too taxing. The purpose of the initial tests are to determine the limits of your natural mental abilities. They will also get you used to the sensations of mental probing and telepathic communication."

"Fair enough," Archetype replied as he sat down across from Xavier and Jean, looking around the room as he did so. "No electronic monitoring?"

Xavier shook his head. "It won't tell us anything that we can't learn on our own. I doubt it would do any good in your case, anyway. When I reviewed your session from earlier, I noticed that when your mental powers were active, there was a bit of static on the monitors."

Archetype frowned. "Psychic interference?"

Jean nodded. "It's not uncommon among psis. Some psychic functions operate at electromagnetic wavelengths that are close to those used by electronic equipment, so their use interferes with more delicate components."

Archetype nodded absently. "That might explain my effect on electronics. Rogue told you about the streetlight last night?"

"Yes," Xavier replied. "I think the reason why that sort of thing happens to you frequently is that your powers aren't fully under your control. If you can learn to restrict them to a narrower space, then that sort of thing should happen less frequently."

"Sounds reasonable," Archetype replied, closing his eyes.

"You're ready?" Xavier asked him.

"All set."

"Shall we fire at Will?" Jean asked in a teasing voice.

"I'm going to ignore that."

"All right, seriously now, let's begin."

Xavier and Jean extended the telepathic 'feelers' which they constantly had active from long training, and reached out towards Archetype's mind.

**_Do you sense anything unusual, Jean?_** Xavier asked her as they approached.

**_Not yet,_** she replied, **_but we're not there yet, either. Here we go..._**

Contact. –

_WhatinthehellisgoingtohappenheremanI'mtiredshouldn'tbeupthisearlyhavetotakecareofthe_

_disheswhenI'mdoneherelet'sseethenweightswithWolverineandphysicalwithBeastnohesaidcallhimHenry_

_thentrainingintheDangerRoomafterlunchthenIguessanapnoI'vebeensleepingtoomuchlatelyI'llseewhatthe_

_othersaredoingandseeifIcantagalongdamnI'vegottogetalifeofmyownaroundherewhenisthisgoingtobeover-_

_**Are you making any sense out of this?** _Xavier asked Jean.

**_No, it's the same as before. His thoughts are going all over the place. Can you get any deeper?_**

_**No. I can't find any pathways. Let's break contact.**_

They both withdrew from their telepathic probes and relaxed. "We're done," Xavier said.

Archetype opened his eyes. "You two must be very subtle. I didn't feel a thing."

"That's because we never entered you're mind," Xavier said with some asperity. "We weren't able to penetrate your defenses."

"What defenses? I wasn't resisting you at all."

"Maybe not," Jean said a bit more calmly than Xavier, "but we weren't able to get past your surface thoughts. You see," she explained, "a telepath looks for what Charles and I call 'pathways' in order to enter the mind of another. It's sort of like finding a door to enter an unfamiliar building. Your thoughts were shifting so quickly, we couldn't find any pathways which could lead us deeper into your mind."

Archetype brooded for a minute. "Would you two be open to a suggestion?"

"We always listen to suggestions," Xavier replied. "We may not do anything with them, but we _will_ listen to them."

"I think that what you just encountered is a result of my A.D.D.. You might have better results if I'm wear myself out."

"You just lost me," Jean told him.

"You probably picked the worst time possible to try this. It takes me a good two hours after getting up to focus my mind to any appreciable extent. Some of the chemicals which the human body produces during exercise allow people with A.D.D. to regain some sense of focus. I've noticed that my mind tends to be slightly clearer after I exercise, so why don't we try again after my weight session with Wolverine? About half an hour afterward should do it."

Xavier nodded. "All right. See you then. By the way," he added as Archetype started to get up. "Have you decided on a uniform?"

Archetype looked puzzled. "Uniform? I thought I was on probation."

"It may be necessary for you to go out with the X-Men on a mission if we're short on people. You should have a uniform in case of that possibility. Ask Rogue or Bobby to show you our CAD/CAM equipment."

"Right. See you at lunch."

After he had closed the door behind him, Xavier turned to Jean. "He had the most stringent defenses I've ever encountered in a psi-blind person, except for Magnus, of course."

"Are you sure he's psi-blind, Charles? We never really attacked him, just scanned him."

Xavier blinked. "Good point. We'll try a mild attack soon."

* * *

Two hours later, Archetype found Rogue and Bobby in the sitting room. "Xavier said I should go about making myself a team uniform. Could you show me where this tailor from hell is located?"

"No problem," Rogue said with a smile. "Follow us." She led the way to the elevator, and they made their way down to the sub-levels.

"This may be a silly question," Archetype said as they exited, "but what do you guys do if the power goes out? Never mind, I just figured it out. Your power is on an independent grid, right?"

"Right," Bobby said. "We have a geothermal power tap that goes down a few miles."

"Who did you guys get your technology from? Mister Wizard?"

"It's a long story," Rogue told him. "We'll explain later. We're here."

"Here" was the Shiar molecular transformation chamber where the X-Men produced most of their high-technology equipment.

"How does this thing work?" Archetype asked.

"Just open the door and walk in," Bobby instructed him. "Empty your pockets and take off your shoes, so the computer gets an accurate measurement of your height."

"What are you wearing under the turtleneck?" Rogue asked.

"Nothing, why?"

She grimaced. "You'll have to take that off, too. The neck of that thing'll interfere with the measurements."

Archetype shrugged. "All right." He removed the shirt, again showing the scars on his back.

Bobby, who was seeing them for the first time, winced. "That must have _hurt_."

"What?"

"Those scars."

"Oh." He shrugged again. "They're the only part of me that hasn't healed completely from my accident. I think it's because I can't see the injured area very well. If I can see where I've been injured, and examine the extent of the wound, I usually heal cleaner and faster. What do I do once I get in this thing?"

"Just stand on the crosshairs and close your eyes while the lasers measure you," Rogue told him. "It should only take about a minute." Archetype nodded and entered, closing the door behind him.

"That thing scans right through any non-living material on default settings," Bobby said to Rogue in a quiet voice. "He didn't have to take off his shirt."

"I knew that," she said with a small smile, "but _he_ didn't. It gave me an excuse to see his bod. If you hadn't opened your big mouth, I would have gotten a good look at his butt, too."

"You're a _very_ naughty girl," Bobby told her, also smiling.

"We all have our faults," she shrugged. When the scanner finished its cycle, she opened the door. "Come on out."

"What's the next step?" Archetype asked as he slipped back into his shoes.

"That's up to you," Rogue replied. She frowned a moment, then touched the communication board. "Rogue to Xavier."

_"Xavier here,"_ the intercom answered.

"We need two senior team members to give Archetype access to the computer system."

_"Jean and I can do it from here. Archetype, stand by the intercom, would you?"_

"All right, I'm here."

_"Computer, Priority Access modification, voice code Xavier One-Alpha. Acknowledge."_

_"Acknowledged," _The computer replied.

_"Computer,"_ Jean's voice said, _"Priority Access modification, voice code Phoenix Blue-One. Acknowledge."_

_"Acknowledged."_

_"Create new file, name Archetype, for tertiary access. Pause. What we want you to do now, Archetype, is to speak constantly for about one minute, so the computer can get a record of your voice pattern."_

"Should I say anything in particular?"

_"You don't have to. Just say anything that comes into your head. Try quoting from a story that you know."_

Archetype furrowed his brow for a moment. "All right. I'm ready."

_"Computer,"_ Jean's voice said, _"Execute."_ There was a short beep, similar to the tone of an answering machine.

"'True,'" Archetype exclaimed, "'nervous... very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why _will_ you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses - not destroyed - not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily - how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

"'It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture - a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees - very gradually - I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.'" He paused. "How's that?"

_"Uh... fine,"_ Jean said. _"Computer, Commit pattern to memory. Execute. Confirm pattern."_

_"Confirmed,"_ the computer replied._ "New file Archetype recognized and committed to memory."_

"_All right, you're set,"_ Jean told him. _"By the way, what was that quote you used from?"_

"_The Tell-Tale Heart,_ by Edgar Allan Poe."

_"I thought I recognized it. Bobby, can you two handle it from here?"_

"No problem, Jean. Bobby out." The intercom clicked off. "Can we leave you alone now?"

"I guess so," Archetype said dubiously. "How do I work this thing?"

"Just describe what you want to the computer. Computer, create holographic wire frame model of dimensions corresponding to pattern Archetype." A hologram appeared in front of them, which looked like a dark grey grid mannequin. "Just tell the computer what you want on this model, then tell it to make you a uniform corresponding to the pattern, with whatever colors you want."

"All right. See you two later."

After they left, Archetype told the computer, "All right, computer. Open primary file Uniform under account Archetype. Open secondary file...Personal Weaponry."

* * *

Later, at lunch, everyone started to sit down. "Where's Archetype?" asked Henry. "I haven't seen him since his physical."

Rogue and Bobby looked at each other. "He couldn't still be down there, could he?" she asked.

"He's not," a voice said behind her. They all turned around as Archetype entered the room.

"Well?" He asked. "What do you think?"

He was wearing grey pants with black boots. His shirt - or was it a jacket? - was charcoal grey, and fit tightly on his frame. The collar was high, cut close to the neck, and two small 'X' - shaped pins, similar in design to U.S. Army insignia, were attached to it. Over it, he wore a grey coat that reached the tops of the boots. His black leather gloves were held in his hands. The ensemble was topped off by a black fedora, perched slightly off-kilter on his head.

"You look like a cybertech Mountie," Logan told him. "Why a hat?"

"I just feel more comfortable wearing a coat and hat. It might be because hats only went out of style about forty years ago. Or, maybe I'm just a retro kind of guy. The coat conceals whatever weapons I might carry - and one other item I developed."

"Two questions," Xavier said. "What weapons, and what item?"

"Well, the weapons will probably change, depending on who we're going up against, but for now..." He opened the coat, pulling out a broadsword, a Glock-7, and five daggers. He then reached down towards his boots, and pulled out two more daggers.

"What about the other two in your boots?" Bishop asked him.

"Nonremovable. I'll use them for climbing, or as a last-ditch attack."

"Those daggers are British paratrooper design, aren't they?" Logan asked.

Archetype nodded. "In my experience, they're the best design around. They're efficient, sleek, and balanced for throwing."

"But you're very vulnerable to a magnetic attack," Henry pointed out.

"Not all of these blades are metal. Some are made from composites, others are resin, and two are carbon fiber."

"What about the gun?" Xavier asked.

"To be used only in emergencies. I have three clips of standard rounds, and four of tranquilizer-loaded plastic rounds."

"Anything else?"

He removed the coat. His shirt was crossed with a series of metallic 'ribs' that moved along with him.

"What the hell are those?" Bobby asked him.

"They serve a few purposes. The first one is damage control. These will help hold my body together long enough for me to heal, if I ever suffer major injury. There's also a simple wire and cable system which slightly magnifies my strength. And lastly," he continued, "is weapons storage." He flicked his left wrist slightly. There was a slight _click!_, and a dagger flew into his hand.

"Very impressive, Archetype," Xavier said, "if a bit overly dependent on weaponry."

"I started from the assumption that my powers wouldn't be working, and worked up from there."

"Probably not a bad idea. No electronics, I noticed."

"Given my scrambling effect, I figured it would be an exercise in futility. The only electronic item I plan to carry is a communicator."

"Reasonable," Xavier agreed.

"The effect is a bit... _dark_, though, isn't it?" Rogue asked him.

"I tend, Rogue," Archetype said seriously, "to be a very dark man."

"You'll have a chance to test out the equipment this afternoon," Xavier said. "You're scheduled for a group session at four. Why don't you get changed before you sit down?"

"All right," Archetype said, and disappeared.

"Now _that_," Warren said, "was the most extreme costume I've seen around here in a while."

"Not really," Logan disagreed. "He took a lot of elements from various military uniforms. The boots were a lot like jump boots, and the trench coat was Russian."

"The exoskeleton was an ingenious idea, I have to admit," Henry said. "He solved the problem of strength enhancement without using anything that could be turned against him. I think I'm safe in guessing that he used composites for that as well. The only weakness I can see is the lack of protection for his head."

"Most of us run the same risk, Hank," Bobby pointed out. "By the way, how did his physical turn out?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Henry said glumly.

"Oh come on, it didn't go _that_ badly, did it?"

Henry looked at Rogue. "When Archetype did his run yesterday, how winded did he seem at the end to you?"

Rogue thought about it for a moment. "Not very. He recovered pretty quickly."

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one." He looked at Xavier. "I asked him to do a brief run so I see how his body reacted to stress. In the middle of his run, while he was doing about seventy-five kilometers an hour, he flatlined."

Xavier, who was drinking his water at the moment, choked slightly. "He _what?_"

"His heart rate and breathing stopped... cold. They just quit. Most of his neurological functions remained the same, except for his EEG. That became even more complex than it was before. He entered the deepest theta state that I've ever seen in a person who wasn't drugged. His body just kept on running. When he was done running, he slowed down and took a deep breath, his vitals started up again, and his brainwaves returned to normal." Hank snorted. "Whatever _that_ means in a case like him."

Just as Hank finished talking, Archetype walked into the room, dressed in the clothing he had worn earlier in the day. "Normal is _boring_, Hank. I prefer to be unpredictable."

"Being legally dead is about as unpredictable as you can get," Xavier agreed. "How did you do it?"

"When I'm at an accelerated time rate for long periods of time, I stop using chemical energy. I seem to get my strength from... somewhere else. Don't ask me where, because I have no more idea than you do. As for the EEG... well, my mind sort of... 'retreats', I guess. I sort of lose myself within the collective consciousness, letting my thoughts drift within it. When I come back from wherever it is that I go, my body goes back to a more normal state. That's why I don't usually use my heightened reflexes on short notice. It takes me a moment to adjust my thinking and perceptions. If I don't get that prep time, it's a much greater strain on my systems - both physical and mental."

"What happens if you overtax yourself?" Warren asked.

Archetype shrugged. "I age."

"That's _it_? You age? Everybody ages."

Archetype shook his head. "You don't understand. Do you know what the term tanstaafl means?"

"I do," Bobby said. "It's from Heinlein, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's short for 'There ain't no such thing as a free lunch'. It's essentially an idiot version of the Law of Conservation of Energy. What it means is that you can't get something without giving something in return. If I exert myself too much, I pay for it by losing a bit of my own life energy, and I age as a result. My abilities, however, eventually restore my youth."

"Wait a minute," Rogue said. "Are you trying to tell us that you actually get _younger_?"

"That's right. It's a long process, and not very pleasant for me, but it does happen." His eyes became distant for a moment. "You'll see it happen soon enough. Shall we eat now?"

* * *

Two hours later, in the Danger Room, Archetype found himself surrounded by Rogue, Archangel, Wolverine, and Psylocke. "What's the purpose of this scenario again?" he asked.

"We want to see how you do against a superior force in purely physical combat," Xavier told him. "Psylocke won't be using her mental powers for this exercise. Your goal is to take down at least one of your opponents."

"Define 'take down'."

"Immobilize, knock out, or otherwise disable them."

"All right. Let's get at it."

"You sure you're ready, rookie?" Logan asked. "Immortal or not, I still plan to take a piece of you."

"You're certainly welcome to try." Archetype replied.

"This shouldn't take long," Warren said. "It's just a simple cat-and-mouse game."

Then Archetype smiled. "Well, let's make things interesting then... and make all the cats grey."

Then he pulled out his gun.

"Lights out."

He aimed at the lights in the ceiling and shot them, shattering the glass and plunging the room in blackness. The sound of one of the light racks falling was deafening.

The others milled about in confusion for a moment.

"What the hell..."

"Where is he..."

"Shut up and listen... _ow_, what was that..."

"What was it, Betsy, what hit _ow_!..."

"He's moving around the room _hey_ he just went by me..."

"Stay frosty people, he's tagging us somehow _oof_..."

Then Archetype's voice, seemingly everywhere in the blackness at once:

"The hunt is on."

"Watch it, people," Wolverine said, "he's planning some_squarrrkkk..._" Wolverine's voice died out in a strangle of static.

"He got Logan!" Archangel shouted. "Look out, he's moving a_squarrkk..._" Archangel was silenced in an instant.

"_Warren!_" Psylocke screamed. "You son of a bitch, if you've hurt him, I'll _screech..._"

"Betsy!" Rogue exclaimed. "Professor, help me out here, where the hell is Ar_kkkkkkk..._" Rogue's voice was reduced to a dry rasping.

Silence. No movement. No life.

"What the hell just happened in there?" Scott gaped.

"I don't know, Scott," Xavier replied in a dazed voice.

Then they heard Archetype's voice over the intercom.

"Shall we end this charade?"

"Computer," Xavier ordered, "restore lighting."

The light returned. What they saw was horrifying.

Archangel was trapped waist-deep within one of the walls, one wing pinned in the wall, the other flailing uselessly. Wolverine was sprawled on his back, his hands, claws extended, impaling his bodiless

head. Psylocke was staring stupidly at her lower torso, which was jerking spasmodically five feet in front of

her. And Rogue had been fused with the fallen lighting fixture. Her groping hand was pulling her forward, with the fixture, passing right through the back of her head and out her mouth, being dragged along for the ride.

"I would say," Archetype said casually as he leaned against a wall, "that the battle is over."


	7. Chapter 7

"All right, Archetype," Xavier asked ten minutes later, "just how did you know you were fighting robots?"

His reply was a cold smile. "Maybe I didn't."

"I don't buy that," Logan cut in. "Obviously, if you wanted to kill any of us, you could've done it days ago. You were proving a point."

Archetype's face took on a sheepish expression. "Not really. I was irritated more than anything else. I had been preparing myself for days to use my abilities to alter the psychological perceptions of my opponents. My initial attacks were designed to simply tag each of you so that I could keep track of where you were."

"And when you did that," Ororo said, "you found out that your opponents were mechanical. How did you do it? Our androids are based on SHIELD technology. They're the most state-of-the-art products on the planet."

"I don't doubt that they are," Archetype replied, "but as good as they are, they're still not alive."

"You can tell whether or not something's alive?" Henry asked him.

"Yes. I had a good idea that they weren't alive _before_ I made my attack. The strikes simply confirmed what I already knew." He became thoughtful for a moment. "Remember what I told you about seeing things at many levels at once?"

"Yes," Ororo replied. "I do much the same thing myself. I perceive the natural forces which comprise the weather as patterns of energy."

"Really?" Archetype replied, one eyebrow going up. "We might want to compare notes later. In any case, I can look at a person and 'see' certain things about them. I see them not as a person, but as a pattern of energy. I can get a general idea of their mental state and physical condition. When I looked at you - or rather, your duplicates - in the Danger Room, I didn't see anything. At that point, I realized that none of you were real. I therefore felt justified in using some extreme measures."

"_'Extreme'_!" Scott said in a rather sarcastic voice. "If those had been real people, it would have been a massacre!"

"But they weren't real people," Archetype replied calmly, "and I knew that when I did it. If they _had_ been real people, I would have used non-lethal, and probably non-violent, means of resolving the conflict."

"Such as?" Hank prompted him.

Archetype brooded for a moment. "Can I have a volunteer?"

Rogue shrugged. "Sure. I'll bite. How do you want to do this?"

"Let's make it a simple game of endurance. Last one on their feet - or in the air, in your case - wins."

"Okay. Hank, can you set us up an environment?"

"Any preferences?"

She thought about it for a moment. "How about Wundagore?"

Henry nodded. "No problem. Head on down. It'll be ready by the time you get down there."

They both went down in the elevator. As they descended, Archetype spoke up. "Just how much punishment can you take, Miss Rogue?" he asked, with a touch of concern in his voice.

"Do your worst," she replied. "If I can take a punch from the Juggernaut, than I can handle anything that you can dish out."

He nodded as the doors opened and they stepped out into a frozen ruin. "Impressive," he noted, turning around as he surveyed the stark, crumbling walls of what was once the base of operations for Magneto. "Does ten paces of distance seem fair to you?"

"Fair enough," she replied. As she started walking off the distance, she told him over her shoulder, "Don't worry, I'll be pulling my punches."

"I would prefer if you didn't do that."

"Oh? Why?" she asked him, turning around. He stood there before her, a shadow on the snow.

"Because I'm not," he told her.

And disappeared.

_Uh oh,_ she thought.

_Better get airborne. _She floated about a meter above the ground. After a moment of looking at her options, she decided to back up against a sheer rock formation, which would allow her to see him from any direction.

She waited there for about a minute, with no sign on him. After a while, she began to get nervous. She knew he was watching her (which, in other circumstances, she decided, would not be an unpleasant experience), but she didn't know where he was. After a while longer, she decided that it might be best to draw him out so she could take him on her terms.

"All right," she said loudly, "when are you gonna..."

She never got a chance to finish the sentence. She felt something grab her from behind and jerk her back. There was a moment of blackness, and she suddenly saw the ground coming up fast.

She was able to stop her momentum, but only barely. She floated about a foot above the ground, still facing the snow. "You're gonna have to do better than..." Again she was interrupted by the shock of feeling a foot kick her in the rear.

_Splat._

She got up quickly, sputtering through a face full of snow. She looked wildly around her. "Where are you, you... you _Yankee!_"

"Aw," she heard behind her in a taunting voice, "don't tell me I went and got you _mad_."

She spun around, finding Archetype not ten feet in front of her, sitting on a rock. "Come on," he continued, "I heard you people were supposed to be good." He stood up, hands outstretched. "You've got

to be able to do better than that. Tell you what," he said, "I'll even turn around," doing so.

Rogue refused to get angry the way Ororo had. _Don't lose your temper. He uses that against you. Keep calm._ She hovered about six inches in the air, and tried to tackle him. Before she reached him, however, there was a flash of light, and she found herself heading straight towards the boulder, which she shattered with her impact.

"Oooh," Logan said, "that's _gotta_ hurt."

For the next forty minutes, Rogue wore herself out chasing Archetype all over the Danger Room. He would occasionally send her straight into a rock, causing a fair amount of damage to the surrounding landscape in the process. Xavier and Logan, who watched from the observation booth (Scott had left several minutes earlier, saying that he didn't appreciate the kinds of games Archetype played), looked at one another.

"He's just going to keep dodging her until she drops," Xavier said.

Logan shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I think he's planning something."

A few minutes later, Rogue stood panting as Archetype stopped teleporting about the room. "Hold still, damn you," she told him.

"And let you turn me into chunky salsa? I don't think so." Then he sighed. "I think we've both had enough, anyway. It's time to finish this up."

Xavier and Logan had trouble determining just what happened next. For about five seconds, Rogue appeared as if she would if she were being illuminated by a strobe light: flickering away, then returning in a heartbeat. When her form stabilized again, she dropped to the ground, limp as a rag doll.

Archetype walked over to her fallen form and gently, almost tenderly, picked her up, cradling her in his arms. He then looked up at Xavier.

"Stick a fork in her," he said. "She's done."

* * *

A few minutes later, Rogue awoke to find Jean standing over her. "Rogue, are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said groggily, "I'm fine. What happened?"

"That's what I wanna know," she heard Logan say from behind her. She turned around to see him pinning Archetype to the wall, his right hand extending a claw on either side of his neck. Archetype, however, seemed totally undisturbed.

"Miss Rogue," he said politely, "would you be so kind as to inform this gentleman that you have come to no harm?"

"I'm fine, Wolvie, really," she assured Logan. "Let him loose." Logan seemed disbelieving, but he retracted his claws and released Archetype, who dusted himself off.

"As I was in the middle of saying," he said as if picking up where he left off, "what I did was teleport Rogue back and forth to the same place several times in a very short duration. A single teleport leaves a person somewhat disoriented. Multiple teleports have a cumulative effect, and are manifested as extreme fatigue. This effect, however, is temporary, and there is no lasting aftereffect. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Rogue said, yawning. "what do I do now?"

He shrugged. "I'd advise taking a nap. The others, however, might want to give you a physical first."

Rogue looked at Xavier. "Well, Professor? Should I have Hank give me a once-over?"

Xavier shook his head. "I don't think it'll be necessary right now. He can look at you after you get up. Go get some rest."

"I'll take your shift for tonight," Logan informed her. "Take the night off."

She nodded and got up unsteadily. Archetype looked at Xavier. "All those transitions tired me out as well. Mind if I hit the sack, too?"

"One question before you do," Xavier replied. "How did you make all those dimensional transitions so quickly?"

"I dilated my time sense, the same way I did when Mister Worthington startled me awake."

"You seem to be under the impression that we've been comparing notes on you."

"Why shouldn't I? Pooling and coordinating your intelligence would be the most effective way of learning about me." He yawned again. "I could _really_ use that nap, Xavier."

"All right. We'll hold off on the debriefing until tomorrow. Hank and I will probably be up most of the night trying to figure out just what happened here, anyway. You're both off duty until then. Go get some sleep." Rogue and Archetype both nodded weakly and clomped out of the room.

"Apparently, what he just did took a toll on him," Henry said . "He's hiding it well, but he's about to drop."

"Any idea why?" Logan asked.

"He told us himself before, remember? Without sufficient preparation, using some of his abilities drains his life energy. He told me that a brief nap tends to take the edge off that, provided he gets it in time."

"I have to admire his strategy," Xavier noted. "He doesn't have the physical strength to take down Rogue in combat, so he whittled down her strength gradually, then used those multiple teleports as a final blow - all without causing her any physical harm."

"Would that work against someone like Juggernaut?" Logan asked.

Xavier thought about it. "Against Cain? It just might be the only non-psionic attack that _would_ work... provided that Archetype is capable of teleporting someone of his size. We should test that in a future training session... as well as the possibility of his tracking another teleporter, such as Kurt. We'll talk about it after dinner."

Rogue and Archetype, meanwhile, had staggered into the elevator, and were on their way back up to the mansion itself. "I'd like to apologize, Rogue," he informed her.

"About what?"

"I was a bit more... aggressive in that session than was warranted. There were alternatives to what I did to you, but I didn't think them through."

"Don't worry about it. We all tend to get pretty down-and-dirty when we're in the Danger Room. We have to be. Anybody we fight isn't going to pull any punches, and we have to be prepared for that."

Archetype bit his lip, an expression which Rogue thought rather cute. "Still," he said, "I'd like to make it up to you." He paused again, looking uncertain, a pose which did not suit him. "I'm going to an art exhibition at a gallery in Greenwich Village tonight. There's going to be an informal party where guests meet with the curators and artists. I was planning on eating afterwards." He paused again. "Would you be interested in joining me?"

She smiled. "I'd love to. What time were you planning on leaving?"

"That would depend on how you want to get there. It'll probably take us about an hour if we drive, but I can teleport us there instantly."

"I think I've had enough teleportation for one day. Can you do that distance compression again?"

He shook his head. "The more developed the area, the more difficult it gets. New York City would be almost impossible."

"Why don't we travel my way, then? We'll fly."

He tilted his head slightly, considering it, then nodded. "All right. How long would it take you to get there?"

"About half an hour if I'm carrying someone. I could go faster, but it wouldn't be very comfortable for you."

"Why don't we leave at about seven-fifteen, then?" he suggested. "That should leave us some margin for error."

"All right. What's the dress code?"

"Dress shirt and tie for me. It'll be an artsy-type crowd. You could get away with almost anything. I'd suggest something you could wear at a nice restaurant."

"No problem. I'll knock on your door at seven."

He smiled. "Uh uh. _I'm_ the one who's supposed to knock. _Your_ job is to stagger me with your beauty when you open the door. It's in the rules, someplace."

Rogue smacked her head. "Oh, that's _right_. That's right up there with the one that says you're paying for the whole thing, right?"

He shrugged. "I'm the multibillionaire. I thought that went without saying. See you at seven, then?" he asked her as the elevator doors opened.

"Wouldn't miss it."

* * *

After informing Xavier via intercom that she and Archetype would be off the grounds for part of the evening, Rogue flopped into bed, and slept until five forty-five. She then took a shower, styled her hair, and decided on an Indian print broomstick skirt over black leggings, coupled with a white blouse, a blue paisley vest, black high heels, and a cameo pin. _Not bad, girl,_ she told her reflection. She then put on her makeup, deciding on green eye shadow and deep red lipstick, applied a dab of her favorite perfume, then grabbed her purse and packed a hairbrush, the makeup, a small mirror, and a bit of money to cover emergencies. She then put on her best pair of black gloves. Looking at her watch, she saw that she had about three minutes to spare. She checked herself one more time, then sat on her bed and waited.

Two minutes later, there was a knock on her door. She got up, took a deep breath, then opened it.

Archetype stood there, wearing a charcoal jacket with black pants and a white shirt. His only concessions towards color were a vest which had a zig-zag pattern of blue and red stripes, and a bolo tie which had a lapis lazuli bird on the catch. His hat hung on the cane in his left hand. He slowly looked her up and down. "That is a lovely outfit, Miss Rogue," he said softly.

Rogue couldn't help blushing slightly. "Thanks," she said. "I don't get a chance to dress up often."

"Then I will inform you that the effect is stunning." He crooked an elbow out to her. "Shall we be on our way?" Smiling, she linked her arm with his, and they descended the stairs to the foyer.

When they reached the first floor, they noticed Warren talking on the phone. "My," he said, looking up, "don't we look distinguished." Archetype bowed slightly to him as he walked by. "See you two later," he called as they went out the door.

"Any warnings for me before liftoff?" Archetype asked her.

"Just hang onto your hat," she said, picking him up.

"Is there some link between mutations and bad puns that I'm unaware of?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Never mind."

"Tell me if I'm going too fast for you," she advised him, and took off. Once they reached what she considered a suitable altitude, she headed in the general direction of New York City. Archetype, for his part, looked at the surrounding countryside.

"Mind if I ask you a question?" she queried.

"What, like I'm going to say no at this height? What is it?"

"What do we call you besides Archetype?"

"You can call me Will, though I'll answer to Liam."

"Liam?"

"It's Gaelic for William."

"Oh. What will they be calling you at this party?"

"Probably Mr. Riley. I've been showing up at art exhibits in New York for the past six months. I wanted to establish a network of people in the city who could attest to my identity if I ran into any problems with the X-Men."

"What sort of problems?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, if you choose not to accept me as a member, I'm shit out of luck, aren't I? I wanted something to fall back on in that event. I'm hoping it doesn't become necessary, though."

_So do I,_ thought Rogue. She remained silent until they came close to the Greenwich Village area. "Should we land anywhere in particular?" she asked him.

He looked around. "How about that dark area over there?"

"Okay." They settled to earth in an area where the streetlights were in disrepair.

"Let's see," he said, putting on his hat and glasses, "now just where are we?" He walked to the nearest corner, came back. "It's about fifteen minutes walk thataway," he told her, gesturing with his cane.

"That's not another club you're carrying, is it?" she asked.

"What? Oh, the cane. No, this one is a sword cane." He held his right arm out for her again. She linked arms with her again and they started walking.

"You're right handed, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes, why?"

"Why do you have me stand on your right, then?"

"Because the street's on my left."

"I don't understand."

"The general rule is that a gentleman is the one closer to the street, so he can be the one to take the majority of any dirt that may splash up from the street. It's a tradition that dates back from the days of horse-drawn carriages."

"Oh. I never knew there was a reason."

"That's what comes of being a history major."

"I thought you had a chef's degree."

"I have a bachelors in history, too."

She nodded. "Where will we be eating?"

"It's a surprise. We make a left here."

She was silent for a few minutes. "Why did you decide to leave Ireland?" she asked suddenly.

He didn't answer for several moments. "I'm often torn between love and disgust for Ireland. I can't stay there for very long."

"Why?"

"Ireland has been divided for eight hundred years over the subject of religion. As a result, Ireland is now so rabidly Catholic that hardly any dissent is tolerated. Imagine an entire country run like a Catholic school in the 1950s. I think that both Ireland and Northern Ireland would have been better off if both countries had established secular states after the revolution, rather than making their respective faiths part and parcel of the governments. Well, enough rambling. Here we are."

"Here" was a three-story brownstone, from which soft music could be heard. "Should I call myself anything in particular?" she asked him.

"Nah. There are enough eccentrics here that a beautiful young woman who calls herself Rogue won't be looked at twice... except for the obvious reasons." Rogue found herself blushing again.

They walked in to find a small group of about twenty people talking idly. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls of the room. A small table, stocked with cheese, crackers, and a collapsible bag of white wine, stood in one corner.

"Will this be too crowded for you?" she asked him quietly.

"Actually, this is about right for me," he replied. "The noise level is just where I like it, too." He scanned the perimeter of the room. "Shall we go look at the pretty pictures?" She giggled and followed him.

Rogue didn't know much about art, but she did know that she didn't have a clue of what most of the stuff she was looking at was. "Do you have any idea what this is supposed to be?" she asked him, looking at one particular sculpture that defied description.

Archetype looked closely at the tag on the wall. "_Criticism Number 7_," he said. "Looks more like _Mental Constipation Number Nineteen_." Rogue had to stifle her laughter.

The upper floor held some works that they both found more accessible. "Oh, this one's gorgeous," she exclaimed, gazing at a small bronze sculpture of a stag which carried a lithe, naked woman whose hair flowed back behind her.

Archetype looked at the tag. "It ought to be, considering what she's charging for it. I have to admit, though, it's a _very_ nice piece. I'll be right back," he said, and walked off into the crowd. He returned a few minutes later. "I thought so," he said.

"Thought what?"

"She got the idea for this in a dream. These images are right out of the collective unconscious."

"Are they?"

He nodded. "The woman is the Earth Mother, or Great Goddess, and the stag is a symbol of the Horned God. It's right out of Celtic myth. What's that one over there?" he asked, looking at another painting. Rogue followed, her eyes gazing at the stag one last time.

About half an hour later, Archetype asked her if she was getting hungry. She said yes, and started towards the door. "Catch up in a moment," he told her, as he headed back towards the crowd. Rogue just shook her head and headed outside.

Five minutes later, he came out, holding a box in his hands. "What's that?" she asked him.

"A surprise," he informed her. "I'll tell you during dinner. There anywhere you're fond of around here?"

"Not really. I'll eat anything, to be honest. How about you?"

He thought for a minute. "There's a _very_ good coffee shop about five blocks away. They have a good dinner menu, and they're open all night."

"Sounds good to me," she said. "Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, Rogue was tearing into a delicious three bean salad as Archetype munched on lemon chicken. "Want a piece?" he asked her.

"Yes, please." She looked at him. "Why don't you eat very much?"

He smiled. "You're basing your perception on the fabled mutant metabolism. My metabolism is pretty slow, so I have to watch what I eat. Besides, I'm saving my appetite for dessert." He was true to his word, ordering a chocolate peanut butter cheesecake along with a raspberry steamed milk, while Rogue had a _cafe au lait _with an apple tart.

When they were both finished, Rogue leaned back in her chair. "Okay, what's the surprise?"

"Boy, you're impatient, aren't you?" he said teasingly as he handed her the box. "Open it."

She untied the string and opened the box. Inside, wrapped in a felt cloth, was the stag sculpture she had seen in the gallery. She gasped. "How much did you pay for this thing?"

"It doesn't really matter," he replied. "I'm made of money, Rogue. I couldn't go bankrupt if I tried. The interest on what I have tied up in investments alone makes me a very rich man. If I can use a little bit of my money to help my friends, then where's the harm?"

"But you paid for it," she protested. "You should keep it."

"Tell you what," he said. "Let's compromise. You said that your tailor from hell in the basement of the mansion could duplicate non-living matter, right?"

"Right. We use it to make most of our high-technology equipment."

"Well then, a little bronze statue shouldn't be any problem, should it? When we get back, we'll make a duplicate of this, exact to the tiniest detail. I'll keep the original, and you keep the copy."

"Deal," she said, smiling.

Archetype looked at his watch. "Speaking of the mansion, we should get back there. It's getting late. What do you say to getting back my way?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Fine, then. Check, please!"

* * *

Half an hour later, they were in the elevator of the mansion, heading up from the basement, each holding their own statue. As they stepped out onto the residential floor, Rogue turned to Archetype. "I had a great time... Will," she told him. "Should I let the others know that you want to be called that?"

"Why not?" he replied as they walked towards her room. "At least it'll avoid the inevitable degradation of my code name to 'Archie'. And I had a great time, too."

"By the way, why did you drop the 'Miss' earlier tonight?"

"I call professional colleagues by 'Mister' and 'Miss'. I refer to friends by their names."

"But you have to know that Rogue isn't my real name."

"I know that it's not the name you were born with. People have at least three names in their lives, Rogue: the name they're born with, the name they choose for themselves, and the name they earn for themselves. You chose to be called Rogue. Who am I to argue with that? I wasn't born with either the names of Archetype or Will Riley. I chose them for myself, so why should I deny you the same right?"

When they reached her door, Rogue froze momentarily._ Oh God, what do I do now? He can't expect a goodnight kiss._

Archetype, however, solved the problem for her. He gently took her gloved right hand in his, kissed it gently, and smiled at her. "Sweet dreams, Rogue," he said softly, and walked to his room.

"Mister," she said softly, "you have no idea."


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Rogue woke up a bit later than usual, coming to consciousness gradually. She found herself in that state where one is halfway between dream and wakefulness. She reviewed her night with Archetype - no, Will - in her mind. Idly, she wondered if he would be interested in a second date.

She was startled awake by a knock on her door. She got up, pulled her oversize T-shirt straight, and cracked open the door.

Ororo was on the other side. "Are you all right, Rogue?" she asked. "You don't usually sleep this late."

Rogue beamed in response. "Storm, I feel _great_! Come on in," she said, opening the door fully. Ororo walked in and sat down on the chair by Rogue's desk.

"You seem cheerful this morning. I take it your date went well."

Rogue thought a moment. "I'm not even sure if it was a date - at least in his eyes. Anyway, it was wonderful! We went to a gallery, ate out at a cafe... and he bought me this!" she picked up the stag, which she had placed on her night table, and showed it to Ororo. "It cost a ridiculous amount of money, but he said he's so loaded, he'll never miss it..."

Ororo laughed. "Slow down, Rogue. You sound like a teenager. Did Archetype tell you anything about himself?"

Rogue took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, but she still felt giddy. "For one thing, he'd prefer it if we call him Will. He'll call each of us by our code names, or Mister or Ms., until he considers us friends. To be honest, we didn't talk all that much." She smiled slightly. "I guess I'll have to go out with him a few more times to learn anything more."

"You're a charlatan, Rogue," Ororo said, smiling, as she stood up. "Hank wanted me to remind you about your physical. You and Archetype - sorry, Will - will have a debriefing with both him and the Professor afterwards."

"Okay. Tell Hank I'll be down in about fifteen - no, make it twenty minutes. I'll wake up Will."

"You'll miss breakfast, you realize."

"I had a big meal last night. I'll be fine. See you later."

Rogue took a quick shower, put on a T-shirt and cutoffs, and went over to Archetype's room. When there was no response to her knock, she opened the door and peered in. He was still in bed, sprawled on his back, head buried underneath a pillow. She tiptoed over to the side of the bed and watched him for a moment.

He was totally dead to the world. She studied his body underneath the sheets, looking at him from head (or neck) to toe. His body, she decided, could best be described as efficient. He wasn't in any way a mass of muscle like Peter or Logan, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on him, either. He had what the Professor had once described as an Apollonian physique, which was designed for stealth and flexibility rather than brute strength.

As her eyes traveled to his waist, she realized that he wasn't wearing anything underneath the sheets. After an inner struggle (which, she had to admit to herself, was rather short-lived), she took hold of the edge of the sheet, and started to slowly lift it up.

"I'm sorry, madam, but the management's policy is that there is to be no viewer interaction with the exhibits."

Rogue jumped back quickly, blushing furiously. "I'm... I was just... I..."

"No, don't tell me. Let me guess," he said as he lifted up the pillow. His hair was tousled and his eyes bleary, but a twinkle could still be seen in them. "As part of your assignment from Xavier to learn about me, you were trying to determine whether I was Jewish or not."

Rogue fled at that point.

Ten minutes later, Archetype came down into the kitchen. "Hullo," he said blearily to Xavier.

"Good morning," Xavier replied.

"Please don't use that phrase around me, Xavier. I am a firm believer that those two words belong together as much as the phrase 'government intelligence'."

"That's right," Henry put in. "I forgot that you're not a morning person."

"That's not true," Archetype objected. "I _am_ a morning person... one to three in the morning."

"If you like, we could delay your debriefing for a while," Xavier offered.

"There's no need," he replied. "I just need an hour or two to get my mental house in order. I'll be fine."

"Where's Rogue?" Bobby asked.

"Last I saw her," Betsy said, "she was heading back to her room. She was muttering something about maintaining a hands-off policy." The amazing thing was that Archetype managed to keep a straight face.

* * *

Since it was raining that morning, Archetype decided to do his morning run on a treadmill that Henry set up for him in the Danger Room. After he had finished his katas, he entered the debriefing room, where Xavier, Henry, and Rogue were waiting for him. "Sorry if I'm late," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Xavier replied. "Given how chaotic things are here at times, we aren't sticklers for punctuality. Have a seat." After Archetype was comfortably settled in one of the overstuffed chairs, Xavier activated the room's main console, along with three of the smaller ones underneath it. "Let me explain a bit about how we run our review sessions before we get started. We keep a camera and a scanner array focused on each individual training participant, as a way of analyzing mutant abilities, combat skill, and physical condition. We also use a wide-angle scan to analyze team performance as a whole."

"Understood," Archetype assured him. "Did you learn anything interesting during our run yesterday?"

"Well," Henry said evasively, "yes and no. Our readings of you, Rogue, were very complete, and frankly, given how much information we have on your abilities, they yielded no surprises."

"What about him?" Rogue asked.

"_He's_ a problem. We don't have much, and what we _do_ have raises more questions than it answers."

Archetype frowned. "I don't understand. You were scanning me the entire time, weren't you?"

"The entire time you were _here_, yes," Xavier answered. "Unfortunately, you spent very little time here during the session."

Understanding dawned on Archetype's face. "You couldn't track me while I was in transit." It was not a question.

"Exactly. Because of that, all of our readings are a bit spotty. I'm going to contact Forge in Washington to see if he can help us get around that problem. In the meantime, we'll be cross referencing our data on you with our files of Nightcrawler's teleportation process to see if we can find any parallels."

Archetype shrugged. "Whatever you think is best, Xavier. I may have an ego, but I'm smart enough to let you do your work without interfering. As long as you let me know what your results are, and try to keep the files as secure as possible, I have no problem with your sharing your information."

"You surprise me, Archetype," Henry admitted. "I would expect you to be fanatical about your privacy."

"Normally I am, but I knew that when I joined this outfit, I'd have to make some sacrifices. This will be a relatively minor one. Now, what are some of your unanswered questions?"

"Well," Xavier said, tapping at his keyboard, "your E.K.G. became a bit unusual at the beginning of the session."

"How so?"

"It attained the same state as during your run yesterday," Henry informed him. "Your brain patterns became much more complex."

"I can't give you a precise answer on that," Archetype replied. "All I have to work with is a theory."

"We'll take what we can get."

"The collective unconscious, by definition, is present in all people to some degree or another. I think that my connection with it is, for some reason, a much more intimate one than normal. When I'm in an unfamiliar situation, I achieve a state which might be considered a reverse nirvana. Instead of being totally focused, I become highly unfocused, letting my intuition guide me completely.

"Now, intuition can be described as a mental process which utilizes the subconscious, rather than the conscious, functions of the brain. Because I draw information from the collective unconscious, in addition to my own, my brain wave pattern would logically be more complex."

Henry thought for a moment, then looked at Xavier. "I could accept that as a working theory."

"So could I." He looked at Archetype. "If your theory is correct, your dreams would be very complex."

"You have _no_ idea. I spend a lot of my waking hours trying to figure out just what my dreams mean. I have dreams where I deal with archetypes using aspects that have no relation to Western culture, so I usually have no idea just what their significance is. I've been doing some study on Eastern religions and mythologies to fill that gap in my knowledge."

"I did some traveling in the Orient about fifteen years ago," Xavier informed him. "I'll see if I have anything that could be of some use to you."

"I'd appreciate it. I had one dream last month that I think had something to do with the cult of Kali." He shuddered. "I still get chills thinking about it."

"Let's move on," Henry announced. "I noticed that you used a combination of your Doors and teleportation for during the session."

"Yes. If an object is moving - or if I am - it's easier for me to use a Door than to teleport."

"Why's that?" Rogue asked.

"A Door is a pretty simple thing to construct. It's just a connection point between two places. When I teleport an object, however, it's a field effect, and I need a moment to get the dimensions of the 'hole' that the object makes in space-time. If the object is moving, the shape of that 'hole' is constantly changing. It's much easier for me to create a Door, and let the object fall into it."

"That raises another question," Henry remarked. "Kurt - you may know him better as Nightcrawler - has always had problems with teleporting against the pull of gravity. Teleporting straight up is, for him, the hardest thing to accomplish. Do you have that problem?"

"Not that I've been able to find. In fact, one of the first tests that I gave myself, once I realized what I was capable of, was to teleport about one or two miles into the air. My logic was that I'd be much less likely to run into anything solid."

"Sensible," Xavier agreed. "Did you have any problems?"

"None. Actually, I may use that method if I ever find myself in free fall. If I fall down into a Door, and come out falling _up_, then I can reduce my velocity quickly, then teleport down to ground level when my velocity hits zero."

"Or into Blackbird Gold," Henry added. "It has V-TOL capabilities."

"That could work, too. Shall we continue?"

Xavier nodded. "That pretty much covers our questions for you at this point. The rest of our questions are for you, Rogue."

"All right, shoot."

"You're the only one of us to have direct experience with Archetype's teleportation process. How would you describe the experience?"

Rogue pursed her lips for a moment. "There's not much to say, Professor. There were a lot of flashes of light, like what you'd see if you were looking right at a camera as someone took a picture of you. Then I felt a jerk..."

"I swear I never touched you," Archetype interrupted. She elbowed him in the stomach.

"It was like being grabbed and dragged along for a short distance. It took the breath right out of me. After that happened a few times..."

"Wait a minute," Henry interjected. "You were teleporting for only a few seconds."

"Uh uh," she disagreed. "It went on for about two minutes."

"I think I can clear this up," Archetype offered. "Remember what I told you my first day here. Time has little meaning when I, or anyone else, is in transit. You," he said, looking at Rogue, "spent a greater amount of subjective time in transit than actual objective time elapsed."

"Did you get that?" Rogue asked Henry.

"I think he lost me on that sharp left at the end."

"Anyway," Rogue continued, "each time it happened, I got a little more tired. By the time it was over, I was exhausted, and dizzy as hell. I just couldn't stay on my feet after that."

"A state in concordance with your description of the process yesterday," Henry said, looking at Archetype. He looked at his notes. "Well, that concludes my questions. Any comments, Rogue?"

"Just one," she said, "and it's for Archetype. Would one teleport have that sort of effect?"

He shook his head. "No. The disorientation effect from one transit is negligible."

"We might want to look into finding a way for you to send us to a safe area if case one of us gets injured in combat. It might be a way for us to avoid another Morlock Massacre."

"I'd heard rumors about the Morlocks," Archetype said, frowning, "but I couldn't manage a teleport of that scale. There would be too many people involved."

"She doesn't mean the Morlocks themselves," Xavier clarified. "Three of our members were severely injured in combat during the Massacre. Had we been able to help them in time, they might not have taken so long to recover. If you can evacuate our wounded to Muir Island, then we would have a better chance of helping them."

"Now that's something that I've been meaning to ask you about," Archetype said, straightening up in his chair. "If I'm to do that sort of thing, I'll need three things from you to help me."

Xavier's eyes narrowed. "Such as?"

"One: I need some sort of telemetry aid that I can use to pinpoint my own location. If I don't know where _I_ am, there's not a whole hell of a lot that I'll be able to do for _you_. Two: the X-Men will each have to carry some sort of locator beacon, set on a secure frequency, so that I can find them in an emergency. Three - and I know I'm asking a lot here - I need the locations of Muir Island and other safe zones that you've established, so I know where to send you. I'm willing to make a concession of my own in return, by the way."

"And that is?"

"In addition to your safe areas, I will provide you with all the locations of my own safe houses, save six - I'm leaving one secure area on each continent, in case your system becomes compromised."

Xavier brooded for a moment. "I'll have to think about it. That should do for now. Rogue, you're scheduled for security watch this afternoon. Archetype, report to Bishop for a review of security procedures. He'll issue you a smart key and do retinal scans on you. You're both dismissed."

After they had left, Henry turned to Xavier. "Warren mentioned to you that those two went out on a date last night?"

"Yes."

"Do you think it wise that he become enmeshed with our lives so rapidly?"

"I don't see anything wrong with it, Hank. In a way, I'm glad that he's trying to fit in here. All my information on him made me afraid that he was going to shut himself up in his room and only pop out when there was an emergency. Besides, it's not often that Rogue gets any attention. Archetype seems to realize what her boundaries are, and he's chosen to respect them. In any case, what can we do - forbid them to see one another? Do either one of them seem like people who'd obey that sort of order?"

"Good point. Maybe it will be good for both of them. While we're on the subject, how do you think Scott will take the idea of Archetype having information on our secure locations?"

"I don't know. Scott seems to realize that his suspicion of Archetype is irrational, so maybe he'll moderate the histrionics a bit. And even if he chooses not to - well, he's outvoted by the rest of the team."

"We still haven't answered the big question, though."

"Oh? What's that?"

"How will Archetype act when he's under the gun?"


	9. Chapter 9

"Come on, rookie, one more rep!"

Logan and Archetype were in the weight room of the gymnasium, on the third day of Archetype's physical training program. Logan was proving to be a hard taskmaster.

"Right, right, right..." Archetype muttered to himself, as he hefted the barbells yet again. He pumped out fifteen lifts of the forty-pound weights, then slowly set them on the ground. "Satisfied?" he asked Logan with some asperity.

"Good enough," Logan shrugged, which earned him a glare. "But you forgot to put them back on the rack." Archetype, still muttering, replaced the weights.

"Today we're adding something to your routine." Logan informed him.

"What's that?" was the weary response.

"Well, since you're overheated from lifting those itty bitty weights," he continued heartlessly, "we'll just cool you down a little bit."

Archetype looked at him, confused.

"_Hit the pool, rookie!_" Logan roared.

Logan had the sort of voice which was tailor-made for a drill sergeant. Archetype, however, was not as easy to rattle as most. "Shall I change first?" he asked evenly.

Logan was somewhat impressed. Very few people could keep calm like that when confronted with the demeanor he was projecting. "Get some swim trunks on," he grunted. "We put some in the locker with your name on it. You've got two minutes."

Archetype grinned. "I'll only need one," he said, and vanished.

One minute later, they were both standing at the side of the mansion's indoor pool. "I want you to do four laps, to the other end and back," Logan informed him. "This pool's a bit smaller than the one outside, so by the time the weather warms up, you should be able to do five laps on the outside pool."

Archetype looked at the pool dubiously. "I suppose I should let you know now, I'm not a fantastic swimmer. The North Atlantic doesn't exactly encourage casual dips into the ocean. I haven't been swimming in years."

"The real purpose of this is to make you use muscles that you wouldn't ordinarily get to in a regular workout. Your style'll improve gradually... if you do it right. Now get moving," he said, as he pushed Archetype into the water.

Archetype floundered for a few seconds, then got himself under control. After shooting a look at Logan which was full of venom, he began using the breast stroke to cross the pool. He continued that stroke for three laps, then used the back stroke for the last lap.

"That'll be enough," Logan announced. "Come on out." He threw Archetype a towel as he emerged from the pool. "You're gonna have to practice a bit more."

"I suppose I'd better get used to this," Archetype replied resignedly. "I hate swimming, but if..." He was interrupted by a high-pitched klaxon and flashing red light.

"Come on, rookie!" Logan barked, tearing into a run. "We've got work to do!"

"I take it that that's the call to arms," Archetype replied dryly.

"You got it. Follow me!"

* * *

They entered the War Room to find Xavier and Ororo standing in front of the TAC Display. "What's up?" Logan asked.

"A terrorist group is in front of the Japanese Embassy in Washington. The leader's threatening to blow it up. Given his appearance, he's most likely a mutant."

"Has he given a reason yet?" Logan asked.

"He's babbling something about the Japanese being in league with the Swiss banks and the United Nations."

"Along with the Bavarian Illuminati," Archetype said disgustedly. "A classic paranoid delusion."

"I agree," Xavier replied. "Normally, I'd just let the police handle this, but I was able to get a close-up of the device he's been brandishing about. See for yourselves." He punched a button, and an image appeared in the holographic display, suspended in the air. A man stood there, brandishing a small cylindrical device in his right hand. His left arm was pinning a young Asian woman around the neck. Xavier zoomed in, so that the man's right hand filled the 'screen'. "Anybody recognize it?"

"A SHIELD micro-nuke," Logan said. "Fury oughta review his security."

"Who do we have on call right now?" Ororo asked.

Xavier concentrated for a moment. "Henry, Bobby, Rogue, Bishop, and you three."

"You're considering me a team member for now?" Archetype asked.

"Given the circumstances, I don't have much choice," Xavier said. Then he paused. "That didn't come out the way I intended," he apologized.

Archetype waved that off. "I can have us all there in less than a minute. Can you give me a map of the area?"

"Easily," Xavier said, moving his hands towards the keyboard.

"Wait," Archetype interrupted. "We'll all need time to get into uniform. While we're changing, you can do something to make this easier for me."

Xavier nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"You get some of your information from satellites, right?"

"Yes. We piggyback our transmissions over existing frequencies."

"Can you temporarily override a satellite that has a camera?"

Xavier frowned. "I think so. Why?"

"Here's what I want: Find one of those satellites, one over North America. Zoom in here, on the mansion, then zoom out again, as far back as the satellite will allow, then zoom in on the area of Washington where we'll need to be. It'll save me a step while we're in transit, and I'll be able to drop us in the most strategically placed area."

"It'll be ready by the time you get back here. Get moving." Xavier moved to the communications console to alert the other members on the grounds.

Archetype disappeared, and Ororo and Logan ran to the locker rooms. Archetype teleported back to the War Room, in uniform, three minutes later. The others were down within five, and saw Xavier and Archetype reviewing the satellite coverage that Archetype had requested.

"All right, I'm ready," Archetype announced. He looked at Ororo. "Do you want us on ground level, or on the top of a building nearby?"

Ororo thought a moment. "The authorities are going to be nervous enough as it is. Put us on top of a building if you can."

Archetype nodded. "Everybody get close to me... not _that_ close, Rogue. Face that direction, so the guy's right in front of us. We'll be about half a block away. Okay, on three... two... _one_!" There was a flash of light, and they were facing the Japanese Embassy, which was about three stories below them.

"What's the plan, boss?" Wolverine asked Storm.

"We try to reason with him," she replied. "If that does not work... I don't know."

"Archetype," Bishop spoke up, "can you place me on that rooftop over there?" He pointed two buildings over.

"Yes. You want a clean shot, right?"

"Right."

"Bishop," Storm said in a warning tone.

"It's on stun setting, Storm," Bishop assured her.

"Make sure it stays there. Bobby, will you be able to affect your target from this range?"

"No problem, Storm."

"Beast, Wolverine, Archetype, Rogue: come with me. Henry, you may have to disarm the device. Rogue, could you throw it into orbit if you had to?"

Rogue looked doubtful. "I might, but if it blows before it gets high enough, it won't make any difference."

Ororo frowned. "Logan, what would you suggest?"

"There's not much I can do, 'Roro. It might be a good idea if I stay in the background. The guy's probably jittery enough as it is. If I spook him, he may decide to blow the damn thing."

Storm sighed heavily. "You might be right. Archetype, what would you suggest?"

"Let me try talking to him for a few minutes. If he doesn't settle down, I'll take more direct action."

"What sort of action?" Henry asked.

"I won't know until I do it. Let's go." He teleported the five of them down to street level, and they made their way through the police barricade.

One officer tried to stop them. "Stay right where you are, muties!"

Archetype gave the officer an irritated look. "First place, officer, I'm not a mutant. Secondly, we just may be the only chance you've got of disarming that lunatic. Thirdly, if you shoot us, you may startle him, and we all go _boom_. Now point that pop gun of yours at the right person, will you? Who's in charge around here?"

"I am," a man in a suit and sunglasses said. "Agent Beattie, FBI. Put that thing away, officer. You guys are the X-Men, right? I recognize you from that day in Dallas. I was there."

"We're here to help if we can," Ororo informed him. "What can you tell us?"

"Not much. He hasn't issued any demands, but we've confirmed that that thing is a SHIELD mini-nuke grenade, and it's set with a deadman switch. If he let's go of it, it'll blow. That's why none of our snipers has taken him down yet."

Immediately, Storm tapped her communicator. "Bishop, this is Storm. The device has a deadman switch. Do not, I repeat, do _not_ fire."

"_Acknowledged,_" said Bishop over the comlink.

"Can I talk with him?" Archetype asked.

Beattie thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, sure. Our negotiator can't get here for another ten minutes. Try to stall him if you can, Chief."

Archetype nodded. "I'll do my best. Hook me up with a radio and earpiece, so you can hear us. I may have to give you a signal."

Two minutes later, Archetype was walking towards the terrorist and his hostage. "I'm not armed," he announced, holding his hands up. "I'm just here to talk with you."

"You're another mutant, ain't ya?" the man said, desperate hope in his voice. His skin was orange, and he was about five feet tall. He was still gripping the terrified hostage. His voice was ragged and nervous.

"Oh yeah," Logan said from the listening post that had been set up behind the police line, "he's nuts."

"I'm with the X-Men, if that's what you mean," Archetype said in a friendly manner, as he stopped about five yards away from them. "We'd like to know just why you're doing this."

"The flatscans ain't gonna leave us alone, man," the man babbled. "They're gonna put us in camps and put microchips in our brains! They're workin' with the U.N. to make us all become part of the World Army, and they're gonna send us out into space to fight in the wars on other planets. They're doin' the work of the Devil, man, and God wants me to send 'em all to hell!"

"_Lovely_," Henry groaned, "we're dealing with a paranoid schizophrenic who has the Bomb."

"There's no way I can get you to give this up?" Archetype asked as he used his power to get a general look at the man's mind. All he got was images of death and self-destruction.

_"No!"_

Archetype sighed. "Just checking." He furrowed his brow for a moment.

And the terrorist's right hand, bomb and all, disappeared.

The terrorist's eyes widened for a moment, and he screamed. He released his hostage, and clutched his bloody stump, which was bleeding orange. The hostage bolted, and ran to Archetype, who calmed her down slightly, and pointed towards the police line. She understood, moving towards the waiting officers, who rushed her to safety.

Archetype shook his head sadly as he walked back towards the police line. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically to Agent Beattie. "He wasn't sane enough to listen to reason. I didn't have any alternative."

"We were going to shoot him up with something that would have caused instant rigor mortis," Beattie said quietly. "He would have been a statue for the two days or so he would have lived. You saved his life. Hell, you saves thousands of lives! Don't be sorry for that."

Archetype shook his head again. "There had to have been another alternative that I missed," he said quietly. He looked at Ororo. "Shall we return to base, Storm?"

"Yes," she said sympathetically. "Let's go."

* * *

"One question," Henry asked a few minutes later, when they had all regrouped in the parlor room at the mansion.

"What's that?" Archetype said distantly.

"Where's the bomb now?"

"Somewhere in the vicinity of the solar corona would be my best guess. I figured one more nuclear

explosion in that neighborhood wouldn't do any harm."

"Look, bub, we were listening in," Logan said. "He didn't leave you any choice. Anything else we could have done would have set off the bomb."

"Yes," Archetype replied, not sounding convinced, "I guess you're right. I'd better get started on dinner. If you'll all excuse me?" He rose and went to the kitchen.

"You might want to change first," Xavier reminded him.

Archetype looked down at himself. "Oh. Right," he said half to himself. "I'll start dinner in a moment." He walked over to the stairs.

"He didn't even teleport," Bobby remarked. "He must _really_ be upset."

"He is," Xavier said, "but not for the reasons you'd think. He was looking for a way to end the stalemate without resorting to using his powers. I ran into the same thing myself, while I was earning my Ph.D. in psychology. Using my powers felt like... not cheating, but rather that my skills weren't up to the task. I always felt that my training should have been better."

"Think he'll be okay?" Rogue asked, concerned.

"Let's just give him some time. If it seems that he's becoming majorly depressed, then we'll take steps." He frowned. "That's something that we might want to watch out for."

"What is?" Ororo asked.

"I remember Emma Frost telling me once that Manuel de la Rocha - Empath - was highly vulnerable to the emotional states of those around him. It's quite possible that there is some psychological fallout that Archetype experiences as a result of his power."

"Meaning that if there's a major change in the collective consciousness, then Archetype will be affected," Henry added.

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" Rogue asked.

Xavier held up his hands. "I have no idea right now, Rogue. His powers are unlike anything I've encountered before. The only person I know of whose abilities were comparable was Doug Ramsey. I was just beginning to understand his abilities when I went into space, and by the time I got back..."

"He was dead," Ororo said sadly. "Can we change the subject, Charles? I am in no mood to dwell on our darker times."

"Me neither," Rogue added. "I'm gonna go get changed." She went up to her room, got undressed, and tossed her uniform back in her closet. She hadn't been in contact with anything, and the material that it was made from was breathable enough to wear several times without washing. When she came out, clad in her usual casual dress of jeans, blouse and gloves, Will was just starting down the stairs, apparently lost in thought.

"You need any help with dinner?" she asked him.

He looked up for a moment, startled. "Um... sure," he replied, "if you don't mind peeling some potatoes. I was going to make that eye round roast I took out of the freezer this morning."

"No problem," she said. She followed him down to the kitchen, and started peeling potatoes while he lit the oven, then seasoned and tied up the meat. He then pulled out what appeared to be a hypodermic needle from one of the drawers.

Warren, who was just walking into the kitchen, did a double take. "What in the hell is that thing?" he exclaimed.

"A flavor injector," Will replied, as he used the instrument to gather up the liquid which remained in the meat tray. "It's used to add broths and other flavors to roasted meats and birds." He placed the needle in the roast and depressed the plunger. Warren simply nodded, not really knowing how to reply, as the roast was placed in the broiler.

"Okay," Will said as he opened the refrigerator, "What do we have for a vegetable course?" He peered inside, and sighed. "Not a whole hell of a lot. Where do you keep the canned stuff?"

Warren pointed to the proper cabinet, and Will, after a minute's search, emerged with two cans of sliced mushrooms and a can of beef broth. "Next question," he said, looking at Rogue. "Where's the wine kept around here?"

"Down in the basement," she replied.

"What do you need?" Warren asked. "I can get it."

"Madiera, if you have it. It doesn't have to be an old vintage."

Warren nodded, went to the elevator, and went down one floor. After weaving his way through the heater room and the room where the old furniture was kept, he entered the wine cellar. He flicked on the overhead light, and, after a few minutes of searching, procured a bottle of Madiera.

"Will this work?" he asked Will when he returned. Will was sautéing the mushrooms in a bit of butter.

Will peered at the label. "Perfect. Remind me to tell Xavier that I took it." He poured a generous portion of the wine into a saucepan, to which he added the mushrooms and the broth. "Now we just have to let this reduce a bit," he said as he put the heat down to its bare minimum. "Let's see," he said reflectively, "what should we do for dessert?"

"Do you have time to bake something?" Rogue asked as she finished with the potatoes.

He shook his head. "No. Are you done with those?" She nodded. "Then let's get them in the oven." He cut the potatoes into quarters, then put them in a large bowl, coated them with a small amount of cooking oil, added some rosemary, then opened the oven and placed them in the roasting pan. "Now, dessert, dessert..." me muttered to himself as he closed the oven door. "We need something fast... _got it!_ Is there any ice cream in the freezer?"

Warren peered inside. "Yes. A full gallon."

"Perfect. Could you take it out, please? I'll be back in a minute," Will replied, and winked out.

"The frightening thing is that I'm starting to get used to that," Rogue told Warren.

"Where do you think he went?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? I'm given up trying to predict just what he'll do." Then she smiled. "I've got to admit, though, it makes life interesting."

A few minutes later, Will reappeared. "Took a while to find pitted ones." He was holding a large clear plastic bag, filled with black cherries. "Can you two take off the stems while I get something else? Thanks," he said and vanished again.

"That man's going to give me whiplash," Rogue muttered.

"Let's just humor him for a minute," Warren said. "He's piqued my curiosity."

About three minutes later, Will returned again, with a bottle of brandy in his hand. "Where did you go for that?" Warren asked him.

"France. Here, let me help with that." With three sets of hands, the cherries were stemmed rather quickly. Will placed them in a pan and poured a generous amount of the brandy over them. "We'll just let that soak," he said. "Next question... ice cream dishes."

"Third cabinet from the right, top shelf," Rogue informed him.

Will found a full set of the dishes, washed them, then placed a generous scoop of the ice cream in each one. He then put them on two plates and placed them in the freezer. "There," he said. "Now all we have to do is set the table."

One hour later, after the dishes had been put out and Will had removed the roast from the oven, placing it on a large platter and the potatoes in a bowl, the rest of the X-Men gathered in the kitchen.

"Aren't Cyclops and Phoenix eating with us tonight?" Will asked.

"They usually eat by themselves these days," Xavier replied. "What's for dinner?"

"Round eye roast, seasoned pan-baked potatoes, mushroom gravy, and a surprise for dessert."

"Sounds good to me ," Logan said. "Want me to cut the meat?"

"Sure, so long as you use a regular knife and not those shish kabobs of yours."

"No problem." Logan sliced the roast, and the plates were passed around.

"This is delicious," Ororo said as she tasted the potatoes.

"Thank you," Will replied. "Just save room for dessert."

"You seem in a better humor than earlier," she observed.

"Cooking always seems to improve my mood. My life tends to be pretty chaotic, and cooking is one area where I can have a good idea of what the end result is going to be."

They made small talk among themselves until it was time for dessert. Will took the two plates of ice cream out of the freezer, placed them on the island, and put the bowl of cherries and the bottle of brandy on a small cart that the New Mutants used to use when they were eating in the parlor. He then poured another cup of the brandy into the bowl.

"Okay," Bobby said, "I'll bite. Just what is that?"

Will smiled slightly, pulling the spark lighter for the range from his pocket. "Cherries Jubilee." He then lit a spark just above the cherries. The brandy caught fire instantly, and flames rose about a foot above the pan. He then spooned a small portion of the cherries onto each dish of ice cream and passed them down. _"Bon Appetiet."_


	10. Chapter 10

The next day was cloudy, overcast, and somewhat dreary. Everyone who came down to breakfast that morning was somewhat dejected as a result of the weather. Everyone, that is, but Archetype.

"Good morning, everyone!" he declared as he bounced into the kitchen.

"What's so good about it?" Warren groused. "It's gonna be a downpour today. Didn't you hear that thunder before?"

"Of course I did. Isn't it great? What are the breakfast orders today?"

"You _like_ weather like this?" Bobby said incredulously.

"Like it? I love it! Can't any of you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Warren said in exasperation. "The rain in your face? The feeling you get when your underwear's wet?"

"There's no romance in you, you know that?" Archetype said accusingly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Betsy replied with a sly smile.

Archetype went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "A thunderstorm is the manifestation of a multitude of natural forces - a pure form of the energies which are the stuff of life itself. It's both destructive and cleansing at the same time, clearing out the deadwood and debris that's been gathering. Think of it as Mother Nature's dishwasher."

"I'd rather take a shower, thanks," Logan replied.

"I have to agree with his opinion, Logan," Ororo put in. "I don't often think about it, because I'm so accustomed to the sensations, but his assessment of the dynamics of a thunderstorm are quite correct."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Storm," Archetype told her. He was interrupted by a low rumble in the skies outside. "That's my cue," he announced, walking towards the back door.

"You don't mean you're actually going out in that?" Betsy asked him as the rain started to spatter against the window.

"You got it," he replied as he left the room. A moment later, they heard the back door open, then close.

"I'm starting to think that Scott's right," Warren said. "Maybe he _is_ crazy."

"Well, if he _is_ sensitive to natural forces," Henry mused, "then a thunderstorm would be an ideal way for him to recharge his batteries, so to speak. It might be a good idea to talk to Meggan in Excalibur. Her powers are based in nature as well, so maybe..."

_CRACK-BOOM!_

The sound of a thunderclap made everyone jump out of their seats.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Warren, now fully awake, exclaimed.

"It was a lightning strike, just outside," Bobby said. He looked at Ororo. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

Ororo just shook her head. She seemed as stunned as the rest of them. A moment later, Rogue flew into the kitchen.

"Uh, guys," she said hesitantly, "I think you'd all better look outside." They all got up out of their chairs and went to the window just in time to see the next lightning bolt strike.

Right where Archetype was standing.

The bolt of lightning struck his outstretched right hand, passing through his body and entering the ground through his left hand. His entire body was bathed in witchfire, and small streamers of electricity danced over his frame.

"Shit!" Bobby said. "He's being electrocuted!"

Rogue shook her head. "I don't think so. He got hit once before, and it didn't seem to do anything to him."

"What's that sound?" Betsy asked.

Logan listened intently. "He's... _laughing_."

* * *

"Just what the hell did you think you were doing?" Henry asked Archetype when he had returned to the mansion.

"Recharging my batteries," was Archetype's answer. He was grinning broadly, and pacing all over the room, not staying in any one place for long.

"Why didn't you just put your finger in a light socket and get the same effect?" Bobby asked sarcastically.

"I wasn't dealing with the electricity as much as the natural forces which caused it to occur. They passed through me on their way back into the earth." He paused for a moment, frowning. "The scientific explanation just won't work. Let's try a systems theory approach. The atmosphere and the ground are just part of the larger Gaian system."

"Gaian system?" Rogue asked.

"The Gaia theory postulates that all of the natural systems of the earth function in the same manner as the different systems of a living organism. Basically it says that the earth itself is a giant super-organism, and that everything on it, from rocks to people, has a function within the system."

"Sounds pretty mystical to me," Warren replied doubtfully.

"When you're dealing with things on the level that systems theory does, the line between science and mysticism tends to get blurred a bit. The interaction between individual entities in systems theory is comparable to the quantum mechanics view - that everything that exists is a system of connected energy states, and that everything that exists is connected, in some way, with everything else. What I just did was essentially a way for me to strengthen the bond between myself and the earth. Since the human connection with the earth is one of the most intimate relations within the Collective, it allows me to enhance my own abilities."

"Are you talking about the collective conscious or unconscious?" Henry asked.

"I'm starting to get the idea that the line between the two is nowhere near as discrete as we like to think. For now, I'm going to refer to them as a single unit."

"How do you feel?" Rogue asked.

"A little wired, to be honest. It's going to take me a while to wind down. What do we have on the agenda today, and can I see the morning paper, please?" He took it from Warren, and started leafing through it very quickly. When he reached the financial section, he flipped to the stock section, took a pen out of his pocket, and started circling certain listings, while at the same time crossing out others.

"What are you doing?" Warren asked him.

"Deciding what to buy and what to sell." He frowned for a moment. "Do you own any stock in Dynastar Computing?"

Warren thought for a moment. "I think so. Why?"

"Dump it, today. Tell Xavier to do the same."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I've just got a bad feeling about it today. If you take a big loss because of it, I'll pay the difference." He looked at Warren pointedly. "Trust me on this."

Warren blinked twice, then went to Xavier's study.

* * *

_"In the financial world, the Dow plummeted earlier this morning when Dynastar Computing announced that its new operating system, anticipated for several months, will be delayed until next year. The company president resigned at the request of the board of directors."_

Warren turned to Archetype as a commercial came on the television screen. "Okay," he asked, "just how did you know that the stock was going to drop today?"

Archetype frowned. "It's not something that I can put into words. I just got a flash that investing in that company was a bad idea. I get those sorts of impulses sometimes, and I've just learned to trust in them over time."

"Have you been getting any about us?" Bobby asked.

He shook his head. "No. I doubt that I will until something is about to happen. I usually get a few hours notice. "

"Is there any pattern to them?" Xavier asked.

"No, they're totally random. Well," he said, "what's on the agenda for this afternoon?"

"You said that earlier," Logan pointed out.

"Repetition is the soul of wit."

"Your group session will be at two," Xavier told him. "_Please_ try not to kill anyone this time."

Archetype gave him a look of pure innocence. "Now do I look like the type who'd do that sort of thing?"

Warren looked at Xavier. "You _do_ have a copy of my will, right?"

* * *

_"The game which you are about to play could best be termed 'reverse tag' "_ Xavier announced over the loudspeaker in the Danger Room. _"In this case, the person who is 'it' has to _avoid_ the other players for as long as possible."_

"Does contact with powers count," Archetype asked, "Or will only physical contact be allowed?"

_"Physical contact only,"_ was the reply.

"I suppose I get three guesses as to who's 'it'," Archetype replied dryly.

"Hope you're well rested," Bobby told him with a smile.

"By the way, Archetype," Scott added, "the lights are now shatterproof."

"That's all right, Mister Summers," Archetype replied brightly, "I make it a point not to repeat myself." He cocked his head for a moment. "Maybe _this_ will be more appropriate."

The change was almost unnoticeable at first. Archetype crouched a bit lower onto the ground, covering his face with his crossed arms. When he raised his head again, the grey in his eyes was so predominant, they appeared almost to be glowing. The air around him seemed to darken, becoming thicker. His form became cloaked in shadow, leaving only his glowing eyes clearly visible. When he spread out his arms again, his gloved hands extended like claws, powerful and deadly. He radiated a menace which was as dark as the stars were bright.

He stood up slowly, ponderously, weighed down with a bulk that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper, growling, and thunderous. It was the voice of a god.

"_Now_," it said, "_who's first?_"

* * *

"I can't believe what just happened," Henry told them ten minutes later in the debriefing room. "How could you just _surrender_ to him!"

"Are you kidding, Hank?" Scott said incredulously. "I had to think about the safety of the team. He would have made mincemeat out of us. You saw what he looked like."

"Scott, I was watching him through the monitor, and I saw nothing that suggested that he was a threat to any of you."

"Henry, that is absurd," Ororo objected. "We were right there, and..." She stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing, and turned. "_Archetype_..." she said dangerously.

Archetype turned to her, raising one eyebrow. "Yes?" he asked in a long drawl.

"Did you use your mental abilities against us back there?"

"No," he replied, "I used yours."

"Mine?" she asked, surprised.

"Yours. And Bobby's, and Rogue's, and Wolverine's..."

"Wait a minute," Logan interrupted him, "I don't have any psychic abilities."

"She was asking about mental abilities, not psychic abilities."

"So what's the difference?"

"That fact that you're talking with me at all means that you've reached a certain level of mental development. This means that, to some degree, you are in contact with the Collective. When I did what I just did, I wasn't aiming for anything too specific. I just had a basic goal of intimidating all of you into submission. I have no idea just how that intention manifested itself in each of you. What did _you_ see back there?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Logan grumbled.

"Suit yourself," Archetype replied, shrugging. "Does anybody want to speak up? The floor is open."

"I saw Slaymaster," Betsy put in, her voice dead.

Archetype looked puzzled. "Who?"

"The man who blinded me."

Archetype shook his head in exasperation. "Could someone explain all of this to me?"

"Later," Xavier told him. "Does anyone else have anything to say?"

"Not in public," Rogue muttered under her breath.

"All right, that's it for now," Xavier said. "Why don't we clean up and take a break before dinner?"

"Oh, _shit_!" Archetype cried, standing up suddenly. "Dinner! I haven't had a chance to start anything yet! Things may be running a little late tonight," he said, and disappeared.

"We might want to consider giving him an occasional break from the cooking," Ororo mused. "The meals that he has been making have been somewhat complicated."

"I think we can blame that on his training," Henry supplied. "He went to cooking school, so he's probably constitutionally incapable of making something simple."

"Well, whatever he makes," Logan said, "It's one less time you guys have to put up with my cooking."

"Thank God for that," Henry muttered.

"What was that, Hank?"

"Oh, nothing."

* * *

Dinner that night was a stir-fry concoction which Archetype admitted had been thrown together at the last minute. "There's really not much in the refrigerator. Is there a store around here that's open twenty-four hours?"

"Not around here," Bobby said, "but there are quite a few in Manhattan."

"All right, I'll go there then." He glanced at a pad and pencil in the next room, which appeared in his hand. "Any requests?"

Several suggestions for snacks were bandied about in the next few minutes. "Now, what about dinner?" Archetype said to himself. A cookbook appeared in the air in front of him and remained there, suspended. He opened it up and leafed through the pages.

"Um... Archetype?" Henry asked in an uncertain tone.

"Yes, Doctor McCoy?" Archetype replied absently.

"You aren't a telekinetic, are you?"

"No, why?"

"What's holding the book up?"

"Hmm? Oh," he said, looking sheepish. "I forgot that you haven't seen this trick yet." He glanced at Ororo, who was sitting at his right. "What's underneath the book?" he asked her.

Ororo bent down slightly in her chair, looking up at the underside of the book. "There is nothing down there," she reported.

"All right, now look at it from my point of view," he instructed her, taking the book into his hands and lifting it up. Suspended in the air was a rectangle of dark-colored wood, surrounded by a blue aura.

"That is one of your Doors, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes. The other end is on the desk in my room. I use this method if I have to keep something suspended in the air. How does chicken tetrazini sound for Tuesday night?"

"That will work," Xavier said. "By the way, we want to talk to you about your cooking."

Archetype looked up at that, a worried expression on his face. "Is something wrong? I know that this meal was somewhat rushed, but..."

"No nothing like that," Xavier replied hurriedly, "it's just that you've done most of the cooking over the past few days. We thought that you might appreciate an occasional break."

Archetype frowned. "All right. Why not Friday? That way, I can take care of whatever business I have to do."

"That reminds me," Warren cut in. "I've been meaning to ask you how you manage to keep track of your money."

"Probably the same way you do. I have a financial advisor."

"Does he know anything about us?" Xavier asked.

"No. As a matter of fact, he doesn't even know where _I_ am at any given time. Over the past few years, I've cultivated an image of being a member of the jet set. We do most of our communication over computer, so he thinks I'm always off in some exotic locale. I just check in to tell him what I want him to buy or sell at any given time, and I pay him a surprise visit once every quarter just to keep him on his toes. Most of my money isn't in stocks now, anyway. I deal mostly in antiquities and precious metals."

"Which metals?"

"All of them, really. Gold, silver, platinum, and palladium. I deal in both coins and ingots."

"Swiss Bank?" Warren asked.

"Of course. The banking laws in the U.S. make things too difficult for me. It may be a prudent idea for me to vanish one of these days, and having my money in something as portable and untraceable as gold gives me one less thing to worry about."

"What if you can't get to Switzerland?" Betsy asked.

"No problem. I have two bars hidden here."

"In the U.S.?"

"No, here in the mansion."

Xavier gaped at him. "You have two hundred pounds of gold hidden somewhere around here?"

"Yes. I wanted a cool million to play with if things got hairy."

Bobby looked at Henry. "Do you still have that metal detector you bought one summer?"

"I can check."

"Don't bother, gentlemen," Archetype cut in. "I have already taken steps to make the gold undetectable. I'm keeping it a pocket dimension which is accessible from a certain location in the mansion. The silver, however, I'm more than willing to share." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver coin. "An American Eagle," he said. "I have a lock box full of them."

"What antiques do you collect?" Xavier asked.

"I do blades mostly - swords, daggers, and some of the more imaginative concealed weapons from the past." He smirked. "I also admit to a weakness to some of the James Bond type gadgets."

"You and Forge ought to get along very well, then," Ororo told him. "I expect him to build a fusion-powered potato peeler any day now."

"I really don't go for anything too complicated. I just look for the item that does the job most efficiently." He stood up and stretched. "Well, I'm stuffed. A warning to whoever does the dishes: that wok is made of seasoned cast iron. Use _only_ a paper towel and water on it when you clean it. If you use soap, you will ruin it, and I will then be forced to ruin _you_. See you in the morning - I'm off to read myself to sleep." With that he left the dining room and ascended the stairs.

As he turned the corner into the wing which housed the men's' dormitory, Archetype slowly sagged against the wall, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples as he did so.

It was at its worst when he was fatigued. The link between the Chorus and himself was unpredictable at best, and sometimes he found himself overpowered by their song. He needed to get some sleep, he decided, before things got out of hand.

He opened the door to his room and clomped in slowly, kicking his shoes to the foot of his bed. He hung his vest on the hat rack and closed the door, not bothering to put on the light. He crossed the room and sat down in the leather high-backed easy chair which he had purchased the day before. The chair was an antique, but had been refurbished by a local furniture restorer. Archetype had liked the chair as soon as he had seen it. He had some sympathy for something which, like him, had been brought back from the brink and stitched back together.

Archetype was incapable of sleeping while sitting up, but he usually needed a few minutes to wind down before nodding off. He let his eyes wander lazily around the room. Suddenly, he found his eyes fixed directly on the open window across from him.

It had been closed when he had last left.

Straining to look casual, he slowly rose from the chair and stretched, scanning the room as he did so. He found a heat signature against one wall of the room, by his desk.

Turning the light on was out of the question; because his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he would be as vulnerable as his opponent. He decided that a direct assault would be best, and tensed his muscles for a jump.

He leapt over the side of the chair, balancing on one hand. Rather than landing on his feet, he let his momentum push him forward onto the floor, where he slid on the uncovered floorboards towards the heat aura in front of him. He readied for a strike and lashed out with his legs.

His target moved... straight _up_?

Archetype was, despite his abilities, still bound by a few of the laws of physics. He slid right past where his target had been and crashed into the table by his desk. The stag statue which he had purchased with Rogue flew off the table and sailed - rather gracefully, Archetype thought - through the air to land, with a resounding _thunk_, right on Archetype's head, eliciting a low groan from him. Before he could take the time to get up, a hand grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the floor, holding him up off his feet.

_Time to get serious_, he decided. He flicked his wrist, and his dagger flew into his right hand. He held it just below the chin of his opponent. His unknown foe did not appear to be fazed by the prospect of becoming an unwilling blood donor, and he watched the hand which was not currently wrapped around his throat reach towards his desk lamp and turn it on.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light. "Rogue?"

It was obvious that she was not happy. The tension lines on her face were plain to see, and the set of her mouth was somewhere between a frown and a snarl. Her free hand was balled into a fist.

Archetype pulled his dagger back, replacing it in his sheath. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked her.

"What am _I_ doing?" she replied softly, half to herself. She strode to the window, still holding him with one hand, and threw him outside.

* * *

Xavier, who was working with Henry in his office, heard a low cry, which seemed to fade off into the distance. He looked at Henry. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Xavier blinked once. "Never mind."

* * *

Rogue, who had grabbed Archetype just before he hit the ground, flew him across the front lawn, keeping him about three feet above the ground. She then pulled up sharply, zooming to a height of about ten thousand meters, at which point she hovered. "What the _hell_ was that stunt you pulled earlier?" she demanded of Archetype as she shook him by the collar.

It should have been difficult for Archetype to even breathe, given the constriction which Rogue was placing on his throat. He was, however, able to say three words: "Let... me...go."

"You aren't going anywhere until..."

"I _said_... LET-ME-GO!" Archetype's eyes became twin stars of silver for a moment, and Rogue rose up two feet higher when she found that she was holding an empty turtleneck.

"_Now_," she heard behind her, "can we discuss this reasonably?" She spun around to find Archetype standing on a small patch of lawn which was floating in midair.

"I'm safe in guessing that something that you saw during the Danger Room session was disturbing to you in some manner," he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Damn right," she spat.

He rolled his eyes. "Look, I _told_ you earlier. I have no idea what you saw, and couldn't control what was going to happen. That stunt was a first for me."

She looked at him suspiciously. "You mean you've never done that before?"

"Never," he said harshly. "I had no more of an idea of what was going to happen than you did."

"You could have warned us."

"I was treating you as enemies for the purposes of the scenario. Would you warn Magneto if you were going to punch his lights out?"

"No," she admitted. "But I still think it was a pretty sneaky thing to do."

"I have to be sneaky, Rogue. If I'm not, I may as well paint a target on my chest and change my code name to Cannonfodder."

Rogue had to smile. "I think Sam may have something to say about that."

Archetype's mouth curled up at one corner, resulting in a sort of half-smile. "I suppose so. Can we go back down now?"

"Yeah. Hang on," she said, reaching for him.

He held up one hand. "Wait. Are you willing to help me with an experiment?"

She gave him a dubious look. "What kind of experiment?"

"It'll be easy. Drop down about one hundred feet."

"All right," she said, doing so. "Now what?" she yelled up at him.

"If this doesn't work," he replied as he stepped off his patch of ground, "catch me!" He dropped straight down.

Rogue gasped and maneuvered herself so that she would be in a position to grab him. When he was about three feet away from her, however, he disappeared, and showed up again about ten feet higher, falling _up_. His speed decreased gradually, and when he was almost at a full stop, another patch of grass appeared below him, which he landed on easily.

He stood there for a moment, breathing hard. "I wasn't entirely sure that would work. Thanks for the backup."

"No problem." As she watched him, Rogue saw that his attention became distant for a moment. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head as if clearing it of something. "The Chorus is just getting a little loud, that's all."

"What's the Chorus?"

"It's what I've decided to call the voices in my head. I'll explain on the way down. Can we go now?"

"Sure. Hold on." She let him support his weight by putting his left arm over her shoulder as she wrapped her right arm around his waist and grabbed the waistband of his pants. She slowly started to descend. "Let me know if I'm going too fast," she advised him.

"Drop like a rock, for all I care," he shrugged.

Rogue exhaled sharply, annoyed. "Whatever you say," she replied. She relaxed her will, and her flight abilities were switched off. She and Archetype began to drop... well, like a pair of rocks.

Rogue knew that she was being somewhat cruel, but she felt some small need for revenge. "If you're nice to me," she yelled to Archetype over the howling wind, "I _might_ slow us down when we get close to the ground."

Archetype grinned suddenly, and the grin sent chills down Rogue's spine. "No need," he said. He then pushed himself out of her grasp and plummeted to the ground.

Rogue gaped at the rapidly diminishing figure of Archetype for a moment, then sped after him.

"What are you, _crazy_?" she yelled as she made an approach which would allow her to catch him without killing him.

"I don't think so, but then I wouldn't be the best judge of that, now would I? Hey, watch this," he said as he flattened his arms against his sides and angled his descent to minimize wind resistance. His speed quickly increased to terminal velocity, and Rogue was forced again to try to catch up with him.

_No need to panic_, she told herself. _I'll catch him with plenty to room to spare._ Then she saw him disappear, then reappear another two hundred feet in front of her.

_Okay_, she decided, _time to panic_. She pulled her commbadge out of her pocket and activated it. "Rogue to Phoenix!" she yelled.

_"Phoenix here,"_ was the reply. _"What's wrong, Rogue?"_

"Don't ask me to explain, Jean - there ain't time. Archetype's in freefall right above the lake. I can't get to him in time. Can you catch him?"

"_I'm over the lake now_," Jean replied. "_I've alerted everybody on the grounds. Warren and I are going to try and intercept him, and Ororo's going to use her winds to slow him down_."

"Right," Rogue confirmed. She had gained enough distance on Archetype to be able to see his face. He seemed passive, even tranquil, keeping his body loose and relaxed. He glanced up at Rogue, raised one eyebrow, and closed his eyes.

_"Rogue,"_ Jean's voice came in over the link, _"Warren and I are in position. We'll grab him as he passes by us."_

"Gotcha, Jean. I'll stay as close to him as..." Rogue paused, noticing a small rectangle of black appearing in the air below Archetype. "He's opened a Door," she informed the others. "He may be trying to slow himself down again."

Bobby's voice suddenly cut in over the link. _"No, he's not!"_

_"What do you mean?" _Warren asked.

_"A Door just formed RIGHT ABOVE THE LAKE!"_

"WHAT?" Rogue shrieked. She accelerated to her top speed in a desperate attempt to catch up with Archetype.

She was however, too late. Archetype fell into the Door and hit the lake one second later, causing a splash which sent water fifteen feet into the air.

"Oh my God," Rogue whispered to herself. Ten seconds later, she and the others were at the lake, trying to locate Archetype.

"I'll find him," Bobby announced as his ice form became more abstract. He plunged into the lake, reaching out with his powers to find any objects which had a higher density than the lake water. He found Archetype's body a few seconds later. It wasn't moving.

Bobby quickly created an ice raft just below Archetype. The buoyancy of the raft lifted the body to the surface. When the raft broke the surface of the water, Jean carefully cradled Archetype's body in a telekinetic field and carried him to the shore of the lake, where she lowered him gently to the ground.

Henry, Scott and Xavier, who had come over land from the mansion, arrived a few moments later. "Hank, check his vitals," Xavier ordered.

Henry shook his head. "There wouldn't be any point."

Archetype's limbs were broken and twisted in all directions. His head was craned at an impossible angle, and the depression in the middle of his chest gave mute testimony to the fact that all of his ribs had broken with the impact of his fall.

Rogue was in shock, stammering to Xavier, "I - I tried to stop him, Professor... he would... wouldn't let me... oh God... what have I done?..."

"It's not your fault, Rogue," Jean said soothingly. "You did everything you could to save him."

"I was the one who took him up there in the first place!" Rogue almost shrieked in reply. "Of course it's my fault!" She broke into tears, dropping to her knees.

_Hank, you'd better give her a sedative before she goes into hysterics,_ Xavier projected.

_Understood_. "Bobby," Henry said softly, "could you help me move him inside?"

"Sure," Bobby replied in a subdued tone. He and Henry bent down to lift the body, each of them taking a shoulder. As they heaved him up, Bobby tried awkwardly to place one of Archetype's arms over his shoulder for better support by gingerly handling the arm by the wrist.

The hand which the wrist was attached to apparently decided that it had other ideas, because it grabbed Bobby's wrist in a crushing grip. Bobby yelled in both pain and surprise, dropping Archetype like a hot rock. Henry didn't have time to compensate for the lack of support, and tried to hold Archetype up and help Bobby at the same time. The effort put him off balance, however, and the end result was that they all fell to the ground in a heap.

Jean, Betsy and Xavier all gasped at once and grimaced in pain. _Put up your shields, both of you!_ he barked mentally, as he did so himself.

The non-psis, meanwhile, rushed in to help Bobby and Henry, who were trying to untangle themselves. Henry managed to pry Archetype's fingers from Bobby's wrist, and they both scrambled away from him.

Jean and Rogue rushed back to the others and joined the circle which surrounded the now writhing body of Archetype. They all cringed as they heard a noise which sounded like wood cracking apart. "His bones are knitting themselves back together," Xavier marveled. "Not even Logan's powers go this far."

Then Archetype opened his eyes. They were glowing silver again, and they were set in a face which was contorted in agony. He slowly moved his broken arms and gripped the sides of his head with his shattered hands. Slowly, he began to twist his head back into its proper position. Bobby became ill and had to look away as Archetype's screams echoed over the grounds, drowning out the crunch of grinding bones as a shattered ribcage rebuilt itself and mangled limbs straightened.

It was all over in about two minutes. Archetype rolled over onto his hands and knees and deposited the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He then rose up to his knees, and finally stood up.

His face was etched in pain, and it was undeniable: he had aged. He had the face of a man in his fifties, and the silver in his hair had become much more pronounced. He took three steps, and fainted dead away.

* * *

They moved him to the infirmary, and placed him under monitoring. That didn't turn out very well, however, because all they received on their instrumentation was static.

"It's a by-product, or a side effect, of his powers," Xavier explained. "He's emitting so much psychic energy that the electronics can't cut through it."

"But none of the rest of you do that," Scott mused. "Why him?"

"Most psis work within a specific band of psychic energy which fits in pretty narrowly with the EKG pattern of the individual's brain. Because Archetype draws energy from the collective consciousness, countless patterns overlap, and the end result is static. The effect is somewhat like what you'd get if you had a radio which received all stations at once."

Scott nodded. "What do we do now?" he asked, turning to Henry.

"For now, we watch him and see what happens. I've put in a glucose drip so that he'll have some nutrients to repair himself with. Beyond that, I'm out of my league."

"I'll take first watch," Rogue said quickly.

"No," Xavier told her sternly. "You're going up to your room to get some rest. Hank?"

Henry unlocked a nearby cabinet and removed a brown glass bottle, shaking out five large pills. "Take these just before you go to bed," he told Rogue.

"Isn't this a bit much?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"You know how quickly your body burns off medication," Henry pointed out. "These should keep you out for eight to twelve hours. You need the rest," he said, silencing her objections. "If anything happens, we'll let you know."

Rogue exhaled sharply in frustration and stalked off to her room. When she had closed her door, however, she collapsed against it, shaking uncontrollably. She changed into one of her favorite oversize T-shirts and took the pills Henry had given her. As she pulled the covers back on her bed, she glanced at her bureau, which held an assortment of stuffed animals which she had gathered over the years. She grabbed a large, overstuffed teddy bear, burrowed under the sheets, and quickly fell asleep, clutching the bear as if it were a lifeline.


	11. Chapter 11

She awoke very gradually, dream and reality intermingling almost imperceptibly. She had the sensation of floating - not flying, she realized, because she wasn't going anywhere in particular. She really couldn't see anything, but she could hear a murmur all around her, which reminded her of the atmosphere of a church, or of a concert hall prior to the performance. She felt warm, safe, and comfortable. The murmur, rather than seeming threatening, was like the unintelligible but comforting sounds that a mother makes to her child.

_"Rogue?"_

She snapped awake instantly, and the whispering in her head was silenced abruptly. She slapped the button on the intercom on her night stand. "Here, Hank," she replied. "How's Archetype?"

_"Come down and see for yourself."_

Rogue scrambled into a pair of jeans and hurried down to the infirmary. She found Henry seated at one of the consoles, surrounded by paper printouts, with his head in his hands. "What's wrong?" she asked, worried.

Henry pointed to the closed door of the recovery room. "That man is going to drive me to drink," he growled.

Rogue grimaced. "That bad?"

"He was juggling the bedpans an hour ago."

"Why don't you get some rest yourself?" she asked him.

"I'm about to hit the sack. The Professor relieves me in a few minutes."

"Can I go talk to him?"

"If you're up to it. How _do_ you feel?"

"A lot better. The rest did me some good. I had a really weird dream, though."

"Let me guess. You were floating around in a dark place, and there was whispering all around you."

She stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"Because Charles and I both had the same dream, and I'd bet good money that some of the others here did, too."

Rogue glanced at the door. "You think he's responsible?"

"I'm not sure. Take a look at this," he said, pulling a sheet of paper out of the pile in front of him. "This is an analysis of his EKG patterns while he was out. They're a bit incomplete because of that scrambling field he emits. Ororo and Warren came down earlier to check on him, and I did scans on them for a baseline analysis."

"And?"

"Well, I think you'd have to see it to understand it." He turned to a computer terminal and brought up a display. "I asked both of them to take a brief nap while I scanned their brain waves. While they were asleep, parts of their patterns were identical. When I woke them up, they both reported having the same dream that you did."

"Okay," she said, "somehow he's influencing our dreams. Next question - why?"

"I've got two guesses. Either we're picking up some sort of psychic echo of his healing state..."

"Or?" she prompted.

Henry grimaced. "The 'or' gets stickier. Ever since he got here, I've been reading all the material on Jungian psychology I can find."

"And?"

"Well, after I came up for air, I came up with a theory that's a bit out in left field. It's possible that our dreams are part of an effort to aid his healing process."

Rogue frowned. "From who?"

"The collective consciousness."

She looked at him. "You're kidding, right?"

He shrugged. "It fits in with both Jungian theory and the available evidence. My best guess, cornball though it may be, is that his mind was placed in some sort of... I don't know, protective custody, I guess, while his body was given a chance to heal."

"Have you talked with him about it yet?"

"I'll do it after I get some sleep." He looked at his desk and grimaced. "Maybe I should clean up before Charles gets here."

"Good idea." She walked over to the recovery room door and tapped lightly.

"Come in," she heard. She opened the door to find Archetype sitting up in bed, surrounded by books. His face, while still somewhat drawn, had regained a bit of its vitality, and had a cheerful expression. That expression faded, however, when he saw who had entered.

"I seem to be apologizing to you a lot lately," he said. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."

"I stopped being angry a few hours ago. Now I just want to know why."

His face became troubled. "I wish I could give you a straight answer, but to be honest, the best one that I can give you is that those events took place in the time when they were supposed to happen."

"Wait a minute," she said, as she settled down in a chair, "are you saying that what happened was... I don't know... predestined?"

"I wouldn't call it predestination as much as I would... appropriateness. Sometimes, I find that circumstances in my life reach a state where my options all reach the same conclusion - where all the paths lead to the same destination. At that point, the actions that I take are almost incidental to the event itself." He paused. "Did that make any sort of sense?"

"You're saying that you're sort of... bound by necessity?"

"That's a good way of putting it," he said approvingly. Suddenly he yawned.

"Should I let you get back to sleep?" she said tentatively.

"I think I'd better have something to eat first. Just what time is it?"

"It's about eight in the morning. I haven't eaten yet, either. I'll cook us both breakfast. What do you want?"

He thought a moment. "Can you manage a chicken-fried steak?"

She smiled. "I haven't made that in years. How about eggs and hash browns on the side, with country gravy?"

"Sounds divine."

"Be back in a bit. Want coffee?"

He made a face. "Never touch the stuff."

"But you've been making coffee for breakfast every day."

"Just because I make it, that doesn't mean I drink it."

She laughed. "Back in a bit."

Warren and Elizabeth walked into what had been the kitchen the last time they had checked.

"What in the world..." Warren whispered.

Flour, eggshells, and cooking oil were strewn all over the room. Piles of diced potatoes and onions were lumped right next to the stove, where Rogue was frantically waving a spatula over a smoking pan.

"Who attacked?" Elizabeth asked.

Rogue glared at her. "Not... one... word."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Warren asked.

Rogue fumed for a moment, then pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket. "Two things. You know that truck stop down the highway?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Bring back two orders of chicken fried steak, with gravy, eggs, and hash browns, as fast as you can."

"Okay," Warren said, taking the money. "What's the second thing?"

"_Never... ever... _breathe a word of this to Archetype."

Two days later, Henry gave Archetype a clean bill of health, but cautioned him to "take it easy for at least a week."

"I'm fine, Doctor McCoy," was the reply.

"No, you're not," Henry said sternly. "You're still slightly malnourished, and your muscles, for all they've healed, are still pretty weak. If you just jump back into your normal routine, you'll land right back in that bed."

"In any case," Xavier added, "you need time to recover from the incident."

Archetype looked at him suspiciously. "What exactly do you mean?"

"You are being placed on a leave of absence until we feel that you are fit to return to duty."

Archetype groaned. "Oh, please, don't do that. I'll go crazy if all I have to do around here is sit around twiddling my thumbs."

"You don't have to stay here," Xavier informed him. "Look on this as a vacation. You _have_ been working pretty hard lately."

"All right," Archetype replied glumly. "Are there any restrictions on traveling for me?"

Xavier and Henry looked at each other, then shook their heads. "No. Do you have anything in mind?"

"No. I'll just take the next international flight out of JFK and wing it from there."

"How soon would you leave?"

He shrugged. "I could be out of here in an hour and a half. Just give me a chance to pack and get some money together."

"Why not just use plastic?" Henry asked.

"I like to get lost when I travel. If I use plastic, then anybody who knows their way around a computer could trace my movements."

"How much do you carry with you at any one time?"  
"Depends on the situation. I'll probably keep it down to about ten grand for this trip."

"Oh, gee, is _that_ all?" Henry said dryly.

Archetype smiled thinly. "I like to pamper myself when I'm on vacation - I don't take one very often. I tend to take the four-star hotel circuit."

"Do you have a destination in mind?" Xavier asked.

"I usually just look at what flights are going to Europe and take the next available plane."

"All right," Xavier said, "you should get packing. I want you gone for at least two weeks."

Archetype's face became mournful. "And I thought you were starting to _like_ me," he said in a mock-sorrowful voice.

Xavier glared at him. "Get going," he said in an even voice.

After Archetype had left the room, Xavier and Henry looked at each other. "Do you think he'll take it easy?" Henry asked.

"Given what we've seen of his personality so far, not a chance."

"Great. So how do we keep him out of trouble?"

Archetype came out of the elevator, carrying two large suitcases, a flight bag, and a suit bag, trying to recall whether he had forgotten anything.

"What took you so long?"

He looked up to find Rogue standing in the doorway, next to a stack of luggage. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"I'm going with you," she replied.

"You most certainly are _not!_"

"Oh, yes, she is," Xavier said as he emerged from the ante room.

"I do not need a chaperone, Xavier," Archetype said between gritted teeth.

"To put it bluntly, Mister Riley, I don't think that you're going to follow doctor's orders. Rogue is going along to make sure that you actually get some rest."

"And how, pray tell," he asked, turning to Rogue, "are you planning to do that?"

Rogue took hold of his belt buckle and lifted him up about three feet. "Punching you out if you give me any grief comes to mind," she told him.

"So much for the Hippocratic Oath," Archetype muttered.

Bobby drove them to JFK, and Archetype walked straight to the arrivals and departures board. "See if you can find the next flight going to Europe," he told Rogue.

After scanning the board for a moment, she replied, "There's an Aer Lingus to Shannon in an hour and a half."

He nodded and went to the Aer Lingus booth in the reservations wing. "I would like two adjoining seats in business class for your flight to Shannon."

The clerk behind the counter tapped at his keyboard for a moment. "Yes, sir. How will you be paying?"

"That will be cash."

"Will this be round-trip, sir?"

Rogue saw Archetype think about it for a moment. "What's your time limit for claiming the return trip?"

"Thirty days, sir."

"All right, I'll take that, then."

After they had checked their luggage in, Archetype walked over to the airport shops. "I'm going to need a survival pack," he told Rogue.

"What's a survival pack?"

"Snacks, books, magazines... anything to keep me from going crazy from boredom. Do you want anything? You've got a blank check here, so take advantage of it."

"No problem," Rogue replied. Five minutes later, they each had a largish stack of books, magazines, and candies at the checkout counter.

"Anything else?" the cashier asked.

"I don't think I could fit anything else in my bag," Archetype replied. He looked at Rogue. "Care for a bite before we leave?"

"Sounds good to me," Rogue said. "How about there?" She pointed to a pizza booth across the airport lobby. Five minutes later, they were both munching on pizza and soda.

"Mind if I ask a question?" Archetype asked her. She shook her head. "Where do you find all your gloves? I must have seen you with twelve different pairs since I met you."

"I usually get them at Bloomingdales. Why are _you_ always wearing gloves?"

"I have a few reasons," he replied evasively.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Not quite yet." He glanced at his watch. "We'd better start out for the gate." They polished off their food and left.

As they approached the gate, Rogue stopped suddenly, her eyes widening. "Oh, _no_," she wailed.

"What's wrong?" Archetype asked her.

"I just realized I forgot my passport!"

He frowned for a moment. "Come with me," he said sternly, moving back to the shops. He turned into a side hall suddenly, pulling her along by the elbow. Everything went dark for a moment, and she found herself back in the foyer of the mansion.

"Well," Archetype said impatiently, "hurry up and get the thing!"

"Right," she said quickly, and flew up to her room at breakneck speed. She grabbed her passport from her dresser and hurried out the door, nearly running into Ororo.

Ororo jumped back, startled. "I thought you were at the airport."

"Long story," Rogue gasped. "Gotta go!" She raced back down the stairs, where Archetype was nervously looking at his watch. "Got it!" she cried.

"Let's go, then." He grabbed her jacket again, and she found herself back at the airport. They went through the gate, gave their tickets to the clerk, and boarded the plane.

"Do you want the window or aisle seat?" he asked her.

"Mind if I take the window? The pilot in me likes to see what's below me when I fly."

"No problem." They belted themselves into their seats and waited for the cabin light to go off. Once it did, Archetype took his bag from the overhead compartment and selected a book. As he replaced the bag, he glanced at Rogue. "Do you want your bag yet?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "I think I'll just take a quick nap. Can you wake me up in a while?"

"Sure, but wait a minute before you do." He got up and walked towards the back of the business class section. When he came back, he was holding a pillow and blanket. "Here you go," he said, handing them to her.

"Why, thank you," she said, touched. She placed the pillow against the wall, wrapped herself in the blanket, and was asleep in a few seconds.

A few minutes later, it seemed to her, she was gently shaken awake. "Rogue," Archetype's voice said quietly, "time to eat."

She yawned, stretching. "How long was I out?"

"About four hours. Do you want the chicken-flavored cardboard or the beef-flavored cardboard?"

"Let's go with the chicken. I had beef-flavored cardboard with the pizza."

The meal, which was actually quite good, was served a few minutes later. "Where will we be stopping first?" she asked him.

"I think we'll go to Dublin first, wander around a while. Think you can handle driving an Irish car?"

"Let me guess. Wheel's on the right, drive on the left?"

"Just like in England," he confirmed.

They both turned their attention back to their books, and soon they heard the pilot announcing the landing. Forty minutes later, they had passed through customs and had rented a car.

"How long will it take us to get to Dublin?" Rogue asked as they drove off.

"Three to four hours, depending on traffic. Just take your time. We aren't on any sort of timetable here."

She nodded. "What's on the agenda once we get there?"

"Well, I'll have to stop at my bank first and exchange some of my cash. Then I suppose we'll find a good hotel."

She stared at him. "You mean you didn't make any reservations?"

"None of you gave me any time. Besides, I've never had any problem with getting a room when I need one."

"Why's that?"

He smiled that chill smile again. "Despite my age, Rogue, I'm an old-fashioned gentleman, which means that, when circumstances demand it, I'm the nastiest son of a bitch that you'll ever meet. I'll make them so miserable that they'll give us two rooms just to shut me up."

She smiled, then looked at him. "Why two rooms?"

Archetype looked startled for a moment, then became flustered. "Well, I... that is, I thought..."

Rogue laughed. "I'm just joking. What do you want to do about dinner?"

"Lunch, actually. We've lost a few hours, remember? We'll find a good restaurant after we check in." He yawned. "Then I'm going to crash for a few hours."

"Why didn't you sleep on the plane?"

"I can't sleep in a chair. Tomorrow I'll take care of some business in Dublin. I can show you the shopping district, if you like."

Rogue's face brightened at that. "I've got a feeling that I'm going to max out my Visa on this trip."

"It's all on me. Consider it compensation for playing baby-sitter," he told her, noting her look of surprise.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this," she said, smiling.

"We aim to please."

Archetype handed Rogue an envelope as he walked out of the bank. "Two thousand punts," he told her. "If you need more, just ask."

"Thanks," she said, slipping it inside her jacket. "Which way to the hotel?"

"Down six blocks then take a left."

Ten minutes later, they walked into the lobby of the Shelbourne Hotel. "Good morning," he said to the concierge, "we would like two adjoining suites, please."

The clerk looked them both up and down. "Perhaps, sir," he said in a haughty tone, "you might wish to try another establishment."

Archetype's face hardened, and Rogue was fairly certain that she felt the air crackle. "Perhaps, _sir_, you might wish to reevaluate that statement." He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed a credit card, which he showed to the clerk. Rogue watched with interest as the clerk's eyes widened and his face blanched.

"Let's start over, shall we?" Archetype said coldly. "We would like two adjoining suites, please."

"Y-Yes, sir."

"We will be paying on a daily basis. We will call if we require anything. Beyond that, we are not to be disturbed. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Get someone to see to our bags." Fifteen seconds later, a bellhop was loading their luggage onto a cart and leading them to the elevator.

"What kind of card was that one you showed him?" Rogue asked quietly as they ascended.

"Bank of Ireland Platinum Card," he replied. "Millionaires only."

She nodded. "Why'd you get so cold on him?"

"I didn't like his attitude."

As they entered their rooms, Archetype handed a fifty punt bill to the bellhop. "Thank you very much for your help," he told the young man. "Tell me, what's the best restaurant in this part of town?"

"That would be Coffees, sir."

"Would they be open right now?"

"Yes, sir."

He looked at Rogue. "Could you be ready to leave in forty-five minutes?"

"No problem." She entered her room and gasped. It was huge - easily three times the size of her room at the mansion. She quickly composed herself, undressed, and took a quick shower, deciding that, given the size of the tub, the suite was intended for two guests. She promised herself a nice, hot bath later that night.

Forty-five minutes later, she was putting on the last of her makeup when she heard a knock at the door which adjoined the two suites. She unlocked and opened the door, letting Archetype in.

"Ready?" he asked. He wore a tweed ensemble in various shades of grey.

"Just finished," she replied. "How do I look?"

"Enchanting," he assured her. She wore a white blouse with a kelly green jacket, white hose, and a green-and-white striped ankle-length pleated skirt. "Shall we get going? I got the address of the restaurant from the front desk. It's only a few minutes' walk from here."

"All right." She made sure that she had her keycard, and they left her suite and entered the elevator. "What exactly was that business with that guy at the front desk?" she asked as they descended.

"I had just decided what my role is going to be," he said.

"I don't get it."

"Well, we could have gone to another hotel pretty easily, but I just wasn't in the mood. So, as far as this hotel is concerned, I'm a rich bastard who wants everything done his way and done immediately." He frowned for a moment. "Remind me to make one or two calls to the desk and complain about something trivial."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely." They stepped out of the elevator and crossed the lobby to the entrance. As they passed the front desk, Rogue noticed that Archetype fixed the clerk with a cold glare.

As they walked down the streets, Rogue noticed that most of the buildings that they were passing were older, and said so.

"This part of the city didn't see much fighting during the Rebellion," he replied. "The area we're going into is a bit more recent." He proved true to his word, as brownstones soon gave way to skyscrapers.

"There's the floozy," he said absently at one point.

"Excuse me?"

"Hm? Oh," he said, pointing to a nearby fountain, which housed a stylized statue of a nude woman. "That statue's known locally as 'The floozy in the Jaccuzi'. The Irish, as a general rule, aren't too fond of modern art."

Ten minutes later, they walked into Coffees. "Reservation for two under 'Riley', please," Archetype informed the maiter'd.

"Of course sir. If you'll please follow me?" He led them to a small booth in the corner, handed them their menus, and left them alone for a moment.

Rogue frowned as she looked at the menu. "I don't see any prices."

"This is the type of place where if you have to ask the price, you can't afford it."

"Oh." After studying the menu for a moment, she decided on chicken stuffed with wild rice, while Archetype chose the filet mignon. Rogue also requested the wine list, which surprised Archetype. "You just haven't struck me as a drinker," he said.

She shrugged. "I'm on vacation and feel like relaxing. Besides, my body burns alcohol out of my system pretty quickly. One glass of wine isn't going to do much to me. Why?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye. "Are you considering taking advantage of me if I get wasted?"

He drew himself up. "I am a gentleman, madam. Besides, you're stronger than I am."

She chuckled. "Where do you want to go after this?"

Archetype rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How about getting some shopping done? I need to pick up a few things, and there are a few antique stores that I frequent in the area. After that, I'll show you where some of the boutiques are." He was interrupted by the waiter, who brought them their drinks, salads and a hot loaf of bread. "Dublin isn't exactly Paris, but there are a few fashionable places around here." He tore off a piece of the bread and buttered it. "Is there anything in particular that you want to see?" he asked as he sipped at his sparkling cider.

Rogue shook her head. "Not really. Any objection if we just wander around and window shop?"

"None. I like to window shop, actually. It gives me an opportunity to find things that I wouldn't intentionally seek out. You haven't seen my bric-a-brac collection yet. I keep all sorts of little treasures scattered all over the world. I'll warn you though: if we stop at a bookstore, we'll be there a while. I tend to grow roots when I'm in one."

"I'll make sure to throw you across the street if we pass one, then."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"No charge."

Their first stop turned out to be a men's' clothing shop, where Archetype requested a fitting for a suit. Fortunately, it was a slow day, and the tailor had him on a stool within minutes, measuring him from every angle. Archetype requested that a vest be included with the suit, and offered the tailor a bonus if it could be ready within twenty-four hours. The deal having been struck, he and Rogue left and went to the nearest antique store, where he purchased a nineteenth-century Scottish dirk.

The next two hours were all Rogue's, as they were spent in one of the women's boutiques that Archetype had mentioned earlier. Rogue entertained herself by trying on a series of progressively more cutting-edge outfits. "Well, what do you think?" she said to Archetype as she posed in a black bustier with elbow-length gloves and a floor-length skirt slit up to waist level.

Archetype's face was impassive. "I'd advise against wearing it to a job interview."

Rogue stuck her tongue out at him.

Later, they spent an hour or so inside a used book store, where Archetype bought a largish stack of books. "Do you feel up to a black tie situation?" he asked Rogue as they left. "There's a charity function tonight, and it would be a good idea for me to show my face for a night. I haven't been seen in Dublin social circles for a while, and an appearance with a mysterious young woman will set tongues wagging. Besides, we get a good meal out of the deal." He looked at his watch. "It doesn't start until nine. Why don't we head back to the hotel and rest up before we go?"

"Okay," Rogue replied, "but I'll need to get in to see a hair stylist."

"There's a salon in the hotel," he informed her. Then he frowned. "Wait a minute. If you're invulnerable, how can you get your hair cut?"

"I have a power dampener in my suitcase."

"Oh," he said. "Next stupid question: if you have access to a power dampener, why not use it all the time? I've talked with Bobby, and I know how much grief your powers have given you."

Rogue was silent for quite some time. When she spoke again, her voice was much quieter, almost a whisper. "I've got lots of reasons, but two of them are the most important. First, being exposed to a dampening field for long periods of time can be dangerous. It's a lot like living next to a power line. It doesn't do much short term, but the long term effect is damage to the nervous system. I don't want to take that risk."

"I see," Archetype said feelingly. He looked at her closely. "You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," he said gently.

"That's okay," she said, smiling slightly. "It's been a while since I've talked about it, and I need to get it out of my system once in a while. The second reason?" She looked up at him, defiance flashing through her tear-stained eyes. "The second reason is that I'm selfish. I _will_ find a way to control my powers, and I'll do it without relying on some damn electronic crutch."

Archetype smiled gently, and slowly cupped her chin in his gloved hand. "There's a brave girl," he said affectionately. "Don't let them keep you down." He reached into his back pocket and handed her a handkerchief, which she used to dry her eyes.

Rogue looked at him gratefully for a moment, then, acting on impulse, wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. When she let him go, he straightened his clothes out and looked at her. "Shall we get ready for the party?"

"Let's."


	12. Chapter 12

The King's Inns Club was one of Dublin's most prestigious social clubs, having been founded by many of the prominent leaders of post-revolutionary Ireland. It was housed in a seventeenth-century Georgian mansion which, thought Rogue, rivaled the school in size. The front entrance was busily receiving a long series of limousines and luxury cars, from which tuxedoed men and gowned ladies emerged.

"All set to dazzle the upper crust?" Archetype asked Rogue from the shadows of an alley near the club.

"Ready."

His mouth twitched in amusement. "Feel like having a bit of fun?"

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. "What are you planning?"

"I haven't been seen around here in a while, so people will probably think that I've been abroad. Can you exaggerate your accent a bit?"

Rogue's eyes widened. "Accent? Why, suh, Ah don't have a clue whut yow're talkin' abowt."

"Perfect. Now, here's the plan..."

"Well, suh, mah daddy, bein' in the oil business and all, was a mite curious abowt just whut my Willie was doin' here in Europe. So we just jumped on one of my daddy's planes and came over here, an' bein' here is just so much _fun_, although ya'll do talk a mite strange..."

"Uh, thank you, Miss..."

"O'Hara, suh. Elsie May O'Hara."

"...Miss O'Hara, I'm afraid that my wife is motioning for me to come over. It's been a pleasure speaking with you. Mister Riley, may I speak with you privately for a moment?"

"Certainly, Mister Boyle. Elsie May, why don't you get us some punch?"

"Shure, Willy. Ah'll be right bahk." Rogue made sure to exaggerate the sway of her hips as she walked away.

"Where did you find that girl, Riley?" Boyle said after Rogue had left. "She's absolutely gorgeous!"

Archetype could only agree with him there. In fact, when he had opened the door at her knock earlier that evening, he found that he could only gape at her. Her dress was a deep, dark red, with a rather low-cut bodice and a slit skirt that reached up to mid-thigh. Her green eye shadow blended perfectly with her eyes. She had somehow found a lipstick which perfectly matched the color of her dress, and had added a pair of elbow-length black gloves which she had packed with her. The effect was crowned by her hair, which flowed down one shoulder in a cascading wave.

"She's that all right," she agreed.

"But isn't she a little..." Boyle faltered.

"If you're trying to imply that she's 'dumb as dirt', as they say where she comes from, then you're right." He smiled thinly. "I don't keep her around for her intellect, though."

Boyle raised an eyebrow. "You mean she's your...?"

"Her father owed me quite a bit of money, so he and I made a deal. As long as she keeps me entertained, I won't collect on the debt." He chuckled evilly. "The great part about it is that she doesn't even know about the deal. As long as I give her a new toy to play with every once in a while, she's quiet as a lamb."

"Toy?"

"You know, a car, a necklace, an ocean cruise, that sort of thing. Ah, thank you, dear," he said as Rogue returned with two glasses of punch. "It's been wonderful talking with you, old boy, but I really should spread myself around a bit tonight. Say good-bye, dear."

"Bye, Mistuh Bile..."

"Boyle, dear, Boyle," Archetype said as they walked off. When they were out of Boyle's earshot, however, Archetype broke into a fit of giggles. "Oh, the con jobs I could pull with you, my dear! You almost had _me_ fooled."

"Why, thank you, suh," Rogue replied, bowing slightly. "Actually, I'm having a lot of fun. I haven't gotten this much attention in a while."

"I think the dress might have something to do with that. I _have_ told you that you look lovely, haven't I?"

"Only about six times tonight."

"Is that all? Oh, dear, I'm below my quota."

"Well, I'll let you get away with it, but just this once. Have we made enough of an impression for one night? My feet are starting to hurt."

"You should have said something," he said in a concerned voice. "We'll head back immediately."

As they wove their way through the crowd, Rogue, who was eyeing the snack plates for one last thing to nibble on, saw Archetype's head snap up suddenly, as if he had been startled by a loud noise. "What's wrong?" she asked him, worried.

"I just heard something," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration. She saw him sweep his gaze around the room, scanning the crowd. Noticing her look of confusion, he tapped the side of his head with a finger. "Up here."

"Oh," was all she could think to say. "Where's it coming from?"

He pointed to the fireplace at the front of the room. "There." He looked at her. "You may want to stay here. This is going to involve a walk down one of those darker paths that I've told you about."

"Thanks for the offer, but the X-Men are a team. We don't let our people face problems alone. I'll be right behind you."

"Suit yourself." They both strode directly to the fireplace, and turned around.

There were two overstuffed easy chairs in front of them. A woman sat on their left, a man on their right. It was instantly apparent that they were twins. They were both quite short and slender, with pale skin and black hair, and it was obvious that they were both older than they looked. They were dressed in clothes which were exactly the same deep shade of blue, and looked at them with eyes that were so dark as to be black.

"I believe that you two wanted to see me?" Archetype asked in an even voice.

"Why would you think that, good sir?" the woman asked in a low, musical voice. She had an accent which Rogue couldn't quite place.

"Don't play games with me!" Archetype snapped angrily, his Irish accent becoming much more pronounced in the process. "If you want something from me, then come right out and say it!"

"Very well," the man answered in a similarly musical voice. "We would speak with thee three nights hence at the mound near your home."

"And what interest would the Fair Folk have with me?"

"You will learn that when we speak."

"In three nights, then. Rogue," he said, striding towards the door, "we are leaving."

Rogue hurried to catch up with him. "Who the hell were those two? And why do you have to meet them in three days? Why..."

"Please, Rogue, no questions now," he said as they claimed their coats from the check area and left the club. "Give me a few moments to come down to earth." They left the club, turned a corner, and were back in front of the hotel. As they walked by the front desk, Rogue noticed that the staff cringed slightly, as if awaiting an imminent eruption.

As they entered their rooms, Archetype took a deep breath and exhaled. "All right," he said, "I'll explain over a meal. Are you still hungry? I didn't get a chance to eat much during the party."

"I could deal with a light snack. Do you want to go out again?"

"No, I think I'll just order from room service." He picked up a menu from the desk in the corner. "How does beef stroganoff sound?"

"Nice and filling."

"All right, then." He picked up the phone and dialed room service. A moment later, he was speaking with the kitchen. Rogue noticed that he slurred his words slightly. He glanced at the wine list for a moment, then added a bottle of champagne to the order. "And hurry up with it!" he bellowed into the phone receiver before slamming it into the cradle.

"That was part of the role, right?" Rogue asked.

"Right. Mister Rich Bastard just went to a party and came back drunk as a lord. As rude when he is when he's sober, he's impossible when he's smashed. The bottle is because he and his companion are going to drink themselves into insensibility."

"We are?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Nah," he said, waving dismissively. "I'll just pour a little bit into our glasses, swirl it around, and pour it and the bottle down the drain."

"Oh, don't do that," Rogue protested. "Why waste it?"

He shrugged. "If you want some, I'm certainly not going to stop you. Now, if you'll excuse me, he said as he loosened his tie, "I have to make myself look drunk." He undid the top button and rumpled his shirt, pulling out the tail and half of the front. He tousled his hair and set his glasses off-kilter. He then swayed on his feet slightly and looked at her with unfocused eyes. "How do I look?" he asked her in a slurred voice.

"The term wasted comes to mind."

"That was the effect I was hoping for. What are you going to do?"

"Well, that tub attracted my attention before. A bubble bath sounds real good right now."

"There's a bathrobe in the closet," he informed her.

"Thanks. Let me know when the food gets here," she said, closing the door behind her most of the way. She walked over to the closet, took out the robe, which she noticed was emblazoned with the name of the hotel, turned on the water to the tub, added some of the bubble bath from the small shelf which was next to the tub, then went back into the bedroom and, after taking a moment to make sure that Archetype wasn't peeking through the door, undressed and changed into the robe. She tied her hair back with a barrette, then sank into the tub with a contented sigh.

About fifteen heavenly minutes later, she heard a knock on the door to Archetype's room, then his voice saying "I'm comin', I'm comin'," unsteadily. The door opened, then a second voice announced room service.

"It's about time," she heard Archetype say. "How much'll that be?"

"The amount will be on your bill in the morning, sir."

"Fine, fine, fine. Here." There was a pause. "Can't figger out this damn foreign money. Here ya go."

"Um, sir, this is a hundred-punt note."

"Whatever. Have a good night, kid." The door shut, and Archetype chuckled softly. "That should erase any ill will among the staff," he said, his voice now normal. "Are you almost finished?" he asked, raising his voice slightly. "This stuff won't stay hot for long."

"Be out in a minute," she called. She reluctantly got out of the tub, toweled herself off, then put on the bathrobe and entered the bedroom, where she slipped into a T-shirt and cutoffs.

When she reentered Archetype's room, she found him wrestling with the champagne bottle. "I don't have to deal with these things that often," he apologized.

"Take your time," she replied. A moment later, the cork popped off, and Archetype poured a small amount into his glass. Glancing at Rogue for approval, he topped off her glass. "Thanks," she said, then, looking at the cart, noted that there was more food on the tray than had been ordered before. "You ordered a deli tray?" she asked.

"I felt like a sandwich," he replied. He took a plate from the cart and, choosing a roll from the pile, started stacking lunch meat into a moderately large heap. He added pickles and mayonnaise, and spooned a generous helping of the beef onto the side of the plate. He then took a can of Coke from the ice bucket. "Told them I was adding rum to it," he explained. He sat at the table by the window, while Rogue chose to simply sit cross-legged on the bed.

"Now," he said between mouthfuls of food, "your explanation. Those two people at the club were not what they appeared to be."

"I figured that part out," she replied as she dug into her own sandwich. "Just who were they? You called them the Fair Folk."

"That's one of the many names they have. They're also known as the Sidhe, the Tuatha de Danann, and the Faerie."

"Wait a minute. _That_ term I recognize. Are you saying that those two were... I don't know... _elves_?"

He shook his head. "I'm not really sure what they are. They might be the remnants of the people who lived on the British Isles before the Celts came. They came to me while I was traveling through Ireland a few years ago, and offered their assistance to me when I needed it. I still haven't given my answer."

"Why?"

He was quiet for a moment, staring out the window. "It's another one of those shades of being that I've talked about before. The Sidhe view the world as a much darker and more cutthroat place than we do. They strike bargains where you lose far more than you gain, and where minor mistakes can have drastic consequences. They do have one saving grace: they will not lie. They'll twist the truth into a pretzel or bury it under various levels of metaphor, but they won't lie. So, if you're truthful, even-tempered, and very, very careful, you can deal with the Sidhe and come through unharmed."

"And you'll be dealing with them three nights from now," Rogue said as she polished off her second glass of champagne.

"Yes. Fortunately, I have a good idea of what to expect."

"And what will I be doing?"

"You'll be doing what's good for you and staying inside my house. If anything goes wrong, I want you out of the line of fire."

"Now, wait a minute..."

"This is _not_ open for discussion," he said, cutting her off. Then his face softened. "Look, I know you want to help, and I _do_ appreciate it, but I'm going to be dealing with forces that are far older than anything that you're used to. Pure strength won't be of much use against the Sidhe."

Rogue frowned. "I don't like it."

"I'm not too happy with the situation myself, but we're pretty short on alternatives. Well," he said, wiping his mouth with the napkin and standing up, "I'd like us to leave at around ten in the morning, if possible. Unless you have any objections."

"None here. Well," she said, leaning back into the pillows and stretching out on the bed, "good night. Make sure to close the door behind you when you leave."

Archetype raised one eyebrow. "Aren't you forgetting something? Your room's on that side." He hooked one thumb over his shoulder.

Rogue, however, had a total of five glasses of champagne in her, and was, at that moment, feeling no pain. She was also in a bit of a playful mood. She grabbed the sheets on either side of her tightly and made a mock-stern face. "I ain't movin'," she announced.

"Oh, really?" he asked. "We'll just have to see about that." He cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Rogue's eyes widened. "Remember about my powers. I don't want to..."

She never got a chance to finish the sentence, because Archetype bent down, grabbed the edge of the bedsheet, and flipped it over, covering Rogue completely. Before she had a chance to protest, he rolled her up in the sheet, threw her over his shoulder, and marched her back into her suite, where he dumped her onto her bed. "See you in the morning, beautiful," he said as he closed and locked the door.

Rogue lay there for a moment, not freeing herself, but simply remaining wrapped up in the sheet with a big, goofy smile in her face, one thought bouncing around in her fuddled brain:

_He said I was beautiful._

Archetype shut and locked the door, then leaned against the wall and exhaled explosively.

"A cold shower is most _definitely_ in order. Those legs shouldn't be let out alone at night..."


	13. Chapter 13

"Would somebody _please_ stop banging on the drums?" Rogue said in a whisper.

"Those aren't drums," Archetype told her. "It's the sound of blood flowing through your ears."

"Not so loud, please. How can Wolvie stand to do this to himself?"

"Doesn't his healing factor keep him from getting that drunk?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Remind me to hit him when we get back."

"Would a gallon or so of coffee help?"

"It might."

"Follow me. There's a coffeehouse down the street where the American tourists go. We'll put a few double espressos into you. Haven't you ever had that much to drink before?"

"Not all at once. God," she moaned, "It feels like Petey used my head for a basketball."

"All right, all right, stop whining. The coffeehouse is right over there."

Two hours later, Rogue felt fortified enough to face the world again. "I think I'm going to need some sunglasses, though."

"I'm way ahead of you," he said, fishing a pair of Ray-Bans out of his jacket pocket.

"Thanks," she said, putting them on. "All right, which way do we want to go?"

"Northwest once we get out of the city."

"Okay," she said, pulling out. "Will you be squeezing distance once we get out of the city?"

He frowned. "I could, if you like, but I think you'd enjoy the scenery. Besides, it's not like we're pressed for time."

"Good point."

About an hour and a half later, they had left the city behind. Archetype reached into his travel case and pulled out a book. "If you need any help with directions, tell me," he said.

"No problem. Do you want to make any stops?"

"I don't know yet. I'll let you know."

Rogue, who was used to the interstate highway system in the United States, found the twisting roads of the Irish countryside quite challenging. "Are all the roads around here like this?" she asked.

"Mostly. They just paved over the old dirt roads. Those roads were based on horse and game trails, and a horse tends to take the path of least resistance." His face suddenly became more intent. "Stop the car," he said shortly.

Rogue was about to protest, but seeing his expression made her think better of it. She pulled over to the narrow shoulder of the road and stopped.

Archetype stepped out of the car, seemingly listening for something. He swept his gaze in all directions, then fixed his eyes on a small grove of trees about two hundred meters away. Slowly but purposefully, he made his way across the fields towards the grove, hopping over the short stone walls. Rogue watched him for a moment, then hurried after him.

He entered the grove, then looked around, his head cocked slightly. He focused his attention on a small mound of ivy situated between two enormous oak trees. He got down on his knees and started stripping the ivy away from the mound.

"Archetype... Will, what are you doing?" Rogue asked quietly, worried.

He ignored her, continuing to tear the ivy away. In a few moments, he had exposed a small, moss-covered statue, made of granite, which appeared to represent a bearded man. Its eyes were large and opened wide, and the mouth was a simple O. Archetype glanced up at Rogue. "Please don't ask any questions until we're back in the car," he requested. Rogue could only nod in response.

"How's that?" he asked, speaking to the statue. He paused a moment, nodded, then looked at a large pile of brush directly behind him. He teleported it about a meter to the right, leaving the area open, and exposing the light of the sun, which shined on the statue. "Glad to help," he said as he stood up and brushed off his pants. "We can go now," he said to Rogue as he started back to the car.

Rogue stared at him, then at the statue, then back at him, then hurried to catch up.

"Okay," she asked him as they drove off, "just what was that all about?"

"That statue was a repository... a home, if you want to call it that... for some kind of old spirit. As near as I was able to tell, that statue's been there for about twenty-five hundred years."

Rogue whistled. "That would mean that it's been here before Christianity came to Ireland, right?"

"Right. It was worshipped as a god until the sixth or seventh century, when the area was Christianized. It was so well-hidden that it was missed by the priests and wasn't destroyed. It just sat there, neglected."

"Can't it leave?"

He shook his head. "No. It's bound to the statue, and, to a lesser degree, to the land. It felt me coming, and called to me."

"How?"

"How what? How did it feel me, or how did it call me?"

"Both."

"Well, I seem to act as some sort of beacon for this sort of thing. Powers that have lain dormant for long periods of time tend to wake up when I come by. As for how I felt it..." He paused, as if grasping for words. "I sometimes feel a sort of pull, sort of like a compass needle, towards a specific location. When I get there, I find that there's something that requires my attention."

"Like what?"

"Sometimes it's something really simple - like what I just did. The entity that was there hadn't seen the sunlight for over four hundred years. I got images of darkness and shadow, and followed them. When I had a good idea of what it wanted, I accommodated it. It didn't do me any harm, and maybe that entity will find some way to repay me one of these days. I like to get my good will wherever I can. It'll all help me on my next turn on the Wheel."

"The Wheel?"

"The Wheel of Life. It's a Buddhist view of reincarnation which fits in pretty well with the Celtic world view."

"You believe in reincarnation?"

"Well, if you look at it in a certain light, every time I heal from a traumatic injury, like I just did, I reincarnate. Maybe I'm meant to live a series of lifetimes with a common thread linking them."

"And I guess the other X-Men and I did the same thing when we fought the Adversary," Rogue mused, "and I did when I went through the Siege Perilous. Mind if we stop for lunch? I'm getting hungry."

"Do you always think about food when discussing spiritual matters?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Mutant metabolism, remember? Are there any places to eat around here?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure." He pulled out a road atlas and leafed through it. "Take the next right. We should hit a town within a few minutes."

About fifteen minutes later, they were in the town square. "And I thought that the towns in Mississippi were small," Rogue remarked.

"Most of the Irish lived on farms for centuries. Not many people could afford to live in a town."

Within the space of five minutes, they had located the local pub, called the Black Mare. They stepped inside to find a dim, darkly paneled bar table and a few tables built into the walls. A waiter, who seemed to be in his early fifties, was polishing the glasses. "Pub don't open till two," he told them.

"Actually, sir, we're here for a meal, if you serve lunch," Archetype informed him.

"Oh, of course sir," the waiter said, hastily putting down the glass he was working on. "I'm sorry, but we just chased out a few of our breakfast drinkers. They try to come in before we're ready for them. We're ready to serve meals, though."

"Excellent," Archetype replied as he and Rogue settled down into one of the tables set into the wall. "What do you recommend for today?"

"Well, sir, our specials today are beef stew, colcannon, and baked salmon."

"Colcannon?" she asked, looking at Archetype.

"A mixture of boiled potatoes and cabbage."

"I'll have the salmon," she told the waiter quickly.

"And I'll have the stew," Archetype added. "Do you serve Coke or Pepsi?"

"We have Coke, sir."

"One pitcher of that, please."

They were eating within fifteen minutes, and Rogue was looking at the restaurant. The walls were darkly paneled, and supported a number of old photographs and framed newspaper clippings. The area above the large fireplace was devoted to horses, with pictures, award ribbons, and jockey helmets on the mantle. "How's your stew?" she asked.

"Wonderful. Care for some?"

"Sure. Want some of mine?"

"Thanks, but no. I'm not that fond of fish."

The waiter came up to their table. "How is everything?"

"Wonderful," Archetype said approvingly. "Have you made any desserts yet, or is it too early?"

"I'm afraid it's a bit early, sir."

"That's quite all right. We'll take the check, please."

"Yes, sir." He tore off the receipt. Archetype scanned it for a moment, then pulled out some large bills. "Keep the change," he said as he handed them to the waiter. "Also, I would like to speak to the chef."

The waiter was startled, but nodded his and headed back toward the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" Rogue asked quietly. "That meal was fantastic!"

He just held up one hand. "Wait and see."

A moment later, a short woman in her mid-forties came out of the kitchen. Her cheeks were red from exposure to the heat of the stove, and her eyes were flinty. "And _what_ was wrong with my cooking?" she said in a tone which implied that she was used to criticism.

Archetype stood up. "Ma'am, I simply wanted to pay my respects to a fellow chef. Your meal was exquisite, and I compliment your skill. It has been an honor to be served by you."

Her eyes softened instantly, and she smiled slowly. "Why... thank you," she said sweetly. "Would you like to take some with you?"

"One of the rules of customer service, Rogue: if you're a good customer, you get good service."

"I'll have to remember that stunt," Rogue said as she munched on the bread that had been pushed into their hands as they left the restaurant.

Archetype looked confused for a moment. "What stunt?" Then understanding showed on his face. "Oh. You thought I was buttering her up. I don't do that unless it's necessary to attain some sort of goal. I was just being nice to someone who needed a bit of support. I've worked enough grunt jobs myself to know that words of praise are few and far between."

Rogue looked at him steadily for a moment. "You're a complicated man, Mister Riley."

"I do try."

"Will we make it to your place by tonight?"  
"No. I was thinking we'd crash early tonight. We'd leave at about eight-thirty tomorrow and get there around two P.M.. That should give me some time to prepare myself for the Sidhe."

"I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Believe me, _I_ haven't." He pulled out the atlas again, looking closely at the local area. Then he smiled. "How does spending the night in a castle appeal to you?"  
"Sounds intriguing. I take it there's one on the way?"

"About six hours from here. Stop the car, I'll get the cellular out of my bag." A minute later, he was making reservations. "No problem," he said, closing the phone. "Fortunately for us, this is the off season." He put the phone back in the trunk.

"Why not just carry it?" she asked.

"With the way I affect electronics? Given the way my powers have been working overtime here, the thing would be fried in an hour."

"Good point. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What's that?"

"I'm not complaining, mind you, but why have I been doing all the driving?"

"Because I don't know how to."

She stared at him. "You're kidding."

He shook his head. "Nope. Remember the day we met, when I told Xavier that there were some answers that I just didn't have?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's because my memories of life before my accident are very incomplete. I think that some things got lost in translation during my recovery."

"And knowing how to drive was one of those things?"

"Right. Why do you think I teleport everywhere?" He seemed somewhat embarrassed.

"I hadn't thought about it," she admitted. She was silent for a moment, holding her breath. "When we get back," she said quietly, almost shyly, "would you like me to teach you?"

He regarded her for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not?" he said.

"Great," she replied.

They drove for the rest of the day. Archetype would often have her pull over, and he would explain the historical or mystical significance of the landmarks they saw. At around seven, they reached the castle.

"Wow," was all Rogue could think to say. The castle stood atop a peak, and was so massive as to seem a part of the mountain itself.

"It was built just after the Norman occupation," he told her. "The Tribes tried to take it for centuries, but never succeeded. It was turned into a bed-and-breakfast about thirty years ago. I'll warn you, though: these castles get pretty chilly at night. You might want to wear flannel or something like that to bed."

She frowned. "I didn't pack anything like that," she confessed. "I usually just sleep in a T-shirt."

"Maybe you can ask for some extra blankets. We'll think of something."

Their hosts, a friendly married couple in their mid-forties, made the two of them feel right at home in minutes. While Rogue settled into her room - a huge one, with a vaulted ceiling, a steadily burning peat fire, and stained glass windows - Archetype chatted with the wife about the history of the castle.

They were in luck that night, as a local historical society held their monthly medieval feast at the castle. Rogue and Archetype were invited to participate, and she was delighted by the music and pageantry, as well as intrigued by the novelty of eating with her fingers. She was busily chatting with the person next to her when she realized that Archetype had disappeared. She looked around the table for him, then decided that he had probably gone to the bathroom.

Then she heard the music.

He was sitting with the other musicians by the grand fireplace, his dress shirt and sweater providing a contrast to the medieval garb of the others. He was playing the harp, and his fingers moved over the strings faster than she could follow. He was joining with the band in what was apparently an old folk melody. His eyes were closed in concentration - or, perhaps, in rapture.

The song ended, and he stood up with the rest of the musicians to take a bow as the applause started. He shook the hands of the other players, then returned to the table.

"I didn't know you could play the harp," she said as he sat down.

"Until five minutes ago, neither did I," he replied in a whisper.

About two hours later, they were each firmly planted in easy chairs in front of the fireplace. The medieval troupe had gone home, and their hosts had gone to bed, with Archetype's promise that he would bank the fire before retiring.

Rogue stretched out her legs, laying her feet on the footrest in front of her. "Oh, this is nice," she purred. "I could stay here all night."

"I hate to break it to you, but the fire's going to burn down in an hour or so."

"Spoilsport. Brr," she shivered. "I'm not looking forward to having to warm up that bed."

"Maybe this will help." His eyes went distant for a moment, and a large box appeared in his lap. "I got it while you were playing runway model," he said as he stood up and handed it to her.

"I was _not_ playing runway model," she pouted, but she took the box anyway. She opened it, and gasped when she pulled out the contents. "This is an Irish fisherman's sweater, isn't it?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Straight from the Aran Islands," he confirmed. "They're all handmade, and no two are the same."

"I know. Kitty practically worships hers. Kitty Pryde," she explained, seeing his look of confusion. "She's with Excalibur in Scotland."

"Ah. See if it fits. I had to estimate your size."

She tried it on. "Oh, it's perfect!"

"Good. Do you like the cardigan, or would you prefer a pullover? I can exchange it easily enough."

"Oh no, this is great." She lay back in the chair, curling her legs under her, and hugged herself tightly. "You know," she said, "I just realized why the Professor sent me along with you. I needed a vacation just as much as you needed time to recover."

"A vacation from being an X-Man?" he asked quietly.

"More like a vacation from life in general over the past year or so."

"Rough year, huh?"

"Don't get me started. You know, I figured it out because I'm feeling something tonight that I haven't felt in a long time."

"What's that?"

"Safe."

As he started to break the fire up, he was silent for a moment. "I have to admit, I'm confused. You're invulnerable, super-strong, and can escape fairly easily if things get bad. What do you have to feel safe from?"

She was quiet for quite a while. "I did some things before joining the X-Men that I've been running from for a long time. Sometimes it feels like a lot of those things are catching up with me. The past year or so has rubbed a lot of my past in my face. To be honest, I just need a break."

"Well, you'll get _that_ on this trip, at least," he said, as he finished breaking down the fire. "Well, I'm hitting the sack. You might want to do the same. We have to get going early tomorrow."

Rogue smiled a wicked little smile, and held out her hands. "Carry me," she told him.

Archetype blinked. Twice. "Ohhh-_kay_," he said. "Better stick your hands inside the sleeves." He bent down, supporting her behind the knees and below her shoulder blades. She put her arms around his shoulders for added support.

As they were ascending the staircase, Rogue lay her head against his shoulder. "This is nice," she murmured.

"I'm glad you approve." He opened the door to her room after a moment's fumbling, then walked her over to her bed and set her down gently. "Does my lady require anything else?" he asked, bowing slightly.

"That will be all," she said in a haughty voice. "You may leave me now." Then she smiled gently. "Seriously, though, thanks a lot. I needed that."

"Glad to help," he said gently. "Sweet dreams."

They left at eight the next morning, after a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, poached eggs, biscuits, and hash browns. "I am gaining so much weight on this trip," Rogue fretted as she got in the car.

"Don't worry about it. You'll burn it off in a few Danger Room sessions."

"It'll take about five hours to get there, right?"

"More or less. Just take your time. As long as we get there by dusk, we'll be fine."

They drove at a moderate but steady pace, stopping only once for gas. Eventually, Rogue caught the tang of salt in the air. "We're getting close to the shore," she remarked.

He nodded. "I'd like to stop in town first. I probably have a ton of mail."

The town was a moderately sized one, which somehow managed to convey the impression of being old without giving off the air of hidebound tradition which accompanied such places. They stopped at the post office, and Archetype came out a few minutes later with a large box full of letters and packages. "I'll be spending most of my vacation catching up on all of this," he grumbled. "We'd better pick up some food. I threw everything out of the refrigerator the day I moved into the mansion."

"Right. What's the shopping like here?"

"Not too bad. I can usually find the basics."

"The basics" turned out to be two Cornish hens, milk, stuffing, potatoes, and apple cider. "Let's see now," he said, looking at the spices, "parsley... sage... rosemary... thyme... Simon... Garfunkel..."

"Now you're being silly," Rogue told him.

They brought bread and pastries at the local bakery, then set out. Archetype's house was about thirty minutes from town, and the windmill tower near it was spinning rapidly. "What's that?" Rogue asked, pointing to a small hill near the house.

"That's the mound."

"Oh." She looked at him pointedly. "Just what _is_ going to happen tonight?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Just remember that you promised to stay out of it."

"I know," she sighed. She stared at the front of the house as she stopped the car and got out. "What's that stuff by the door?"

"I ordered a load of peat. It gets cold here at night."

"Given that breeze, I'm not surprised," Rogue said, shivering. "Mind if I see the view from the cliff?"

"Go ahead. You might be better off if you fly. The edge is a little unstable."

She nodded and hovered over to the edge of the cliff. It was a nearly vertical drop, and the face was so sheer that the idea of climbing it was almost laughable. Rogue gave a long whistle and went back to the house. "I'm glad I'm not a sleepwalker," she confided.

They moved everything into the house, Archetype having pointed out the guest bedroom to Rogue, and then placed a protective tarp over the car. "If there's any saltwater damage when we return it, the repair bill comes out of my pocket," he explained.

"I can't argue with that logic."

A few minutes later, Archetype had opened the valves to the underground gas tank which served the kitchen. "I have to crank up the house generator," he explained as he lifted up a rug to reveal a trap door, which he opened. He descended the staircase beneath the door, and the lights came on a minute later. "Now to get started on dinner," he said when he reappeared.

"Need any help?"

He shook his head. "It won't take long. In fact..." He walked out the door again, bringing in a few of the blocks of peat. "No reason why I shouldn't warm up this place now." He set them up in a loose pile inside the fireplace, then pulled some small sticks from a box on top of the mantle, using them as kindling. He then stared at the pile for a moment, and soon it was aflame.

"How did you do that?" Rogue asked from behind him.

"There's a steel mill a few miles from here. I teleported a bit of molten steel from the smelter." He stood up. "Why don't you sit down and relax for a while? You've been driving for hours. Give your eyes a rest."

"Oh, okay, if you insist," she said in a mock pout as she sank into one of the easy chairs. She kicked off her shoes and curled her legs underneath herself, closing her eyes and feeling the warmth of the fire on her skin. A pleasant drowsiness came over her, and she curled up the collar of her sweater. "Wake me up when dinner's ready, then," she murmured as she dozed off.

A few minutes later, it seemed to her, she slowly awoke to find Archetype, who had apparently changed into a more comfortable outfit of black jeans and a white turtleneck while she was asleep, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, and staring into it with half-lidded eyes. "Did you enjoy your nap?" he asked, not turning to look at her.

"Yeah," she said contentedly. "How long was I out?"

"Three hours or so. Dinner's in the oven. I'll eat after this is over."

"What time is it?"

"About nine-thirty." He stood up with a fluid grace that Rogue hadn't seen from him before. "I have some preparations to make before this meeting." He opened the trap door again, and started down the stairs again.

"Mind if I watch?"

He looked at her with an oddly abstracted expression for a moment. She noticed that the grey of his eyes was somewhat brighter than usual. "If you want," he said, "but I should warn you that you're going to see parts of me that you haven't before. I mean that in both a literal and a metaphysical sense."

"Now you've got me intrigued," she said as she stood up and slipped her shoes back on. She followed him down the staircase.

She quickly noticed two things: that the staircase was very long, and that he hadn't installed any lighting in the basement. "Um, you may be able to see in the dark, but I can't," she reminded him.

"Just one moment. Close your eyes." A few seconds later, she saw a faint glow through her eyelids. When she opened her eyes again, he was holding a lit lantern in his hand. "Here you go," he said, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, taking it. "What's involved with these preparations?"

He frowned a moment. "Before I answer that question, Rogue, I think we'd better talk." He sat down on a rock.

Suddenly, Rogue realized that she wasn't in a basement at all, but a massive cave. Stalactites and stalagmites were all around her, and she could hear the dripping of water in the darkness beyond the torchlight. "Wow," was all she found she could say. "Did you find this place?"

"Why do you think I built the house on top of it? I have to tell you a few things, Rogue, because they're going to have a bearing on what's going to happen tonight."

"Okay," she said as she sat down on another rock. "I'm listening."

He took a breath. "Before I begin, I think I should ask: what religious leanings do you have?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Well, I really can't say that I believe in any one religion. Mystique was an agnostic, as far as I know, and Destiny was more of a mystic than a religious person. I've just sort of pieced things together as I've gone along."

He nodded. "You haven't struck me as being a fundamentalist type, but I thought I should ask to be on the safe side. I, myself, am a Pagan - a Wiccan."

She blinked. "You mean you're a witch?"

He shrugged. "That's as good a name for it as any. I probably would have been burned as a witch a few hundred years ago. I follow what I believe were the beliefs of the societies which were here in Ireland before the advent of Christianity, before the Fair Folk were forced to flee into other realms. I try to keep myself in harmony with the cycles and rhythms of Mother Earth."

Rogue frowned a moment. "That sounds a lot like Ororo's belief in her Goddess."

He was startled. "Ororo serves the Goddess? I didn't know that. I'll have to have a long talk with her. In any case, what I'm going to be doing now is a way to make my bond with the earth stronger. Hopefully, it'll make things easier when I meet with the Sidhe."

She nodded. "Okay. What's involved with this?"

"The Wiccan faith believes that there are five elemental powers: Earth, Fire, Air, Water, and Spirit. My meditation earlier strengthened by bond with Fire."

"And now we're surrounded by Earth," she observed.

"Very good. Next is Water. Follow me." He took the torch back, and they walked towards the sound of the dripping that she had heard earlier. "Let me guess," she said. "Now you take a bath."

"It's a ritual purification," he said. "Here's the part where you get to see more of me."

She grinned. "You're kidding."

"Nope." They reached the source of the water, a hot spring, where a towel had been conveniently placed. "If you're embarrassed by this, you can go back. I don't need the torch."

She looked at him. "If _you_ had a free chance to see _me_ take a bath, would you go back to your room?"

He grinned back. "Not on your life." He stripped off his turtleneck and tossed it aside.

"Aren't _you_ embarrassed?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Not particularly. The nudity taboo is a predominantly Western phenomena, and there's enough influence in my head from the non-Western parts of the collective unconscious to wash out its effect. Besides, I've seen the files on your past experiences with the X-Men. Given the number of times enemies have fried your clothes off so far, all I have to do is be patient." As he said this, he stripped completely and stepped into the spring, wincing a bit as he did so. "It's a bit hotter than usual tonight," he observed.

"You've done this before?" she asked.

"Well, not under these circumstances." After a few moments, he seemed to become accustomed to the temperature. "That's a bit better," he sighed, as he let his head sink below the water for a few seconds. He climbed out a minute later, shivering and dripping, and dried himself with the towel. He glanced at her. "You're blushing, you know."

"I am _not_!" she protested.

"Why has the temperature of your face risen, then?" He chuckled and hung the towel over a nearby rock to dry. She noticed that his eyes reflected the light of the torch, but with a slightly greenish tint. "Now for the not so fun part," he said with a grimace.

"What's that?"

"Air." They continued through the tunnel, and she soon heard the howling of the wind outside. "We haven't reached the surface yet, have we?" she asked.

"No. The cave system has a branch that was carved out centuries ago. It goes out to the side of the cliff."

"So the breeze is coming from the ocean?"

"Yes. Here's where things get unpleasant for me." They walked a bit farther, turning a corner, and were suddenly blasted by a buffeting wind. "You go across first!" he yelled over the roar.

She nodded, and, taking a step or two back, flew across the open area in a split second, before the wind had a chance to affect her. Once she was clear of the opening, she turned around and looked at Archetype. "What about you?" she yelled.

He shrugged and walked calmly into the center of the maelstrom. Rogue's jaw dropped as she saw him brace himself against the impact of the wind, turning slowly around with his arms flung out.

A minute later, he staggered out of the tempest to join her, and leaned against the wall of the cave, panting slightly.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes. That should do it."

"What about Spirit?"

He looked at her with an amused expression. "Think about it, Rogue. My power puts me in contact with the collective soul of mankind. I _am_ the element of Spirit for these purposes."

"That's it, then?"

"Almost. All that's left is my rebirth."

"I don't get it."

"We're in a cave, deep within the womb of Mother Earth. Leaving the cave is symbolic of the birth process." He grimaced again. "Actually, given how narrow the mouth of the cave is, it won't be too _unlike_ the birth process."

"Won't you get scratched up?"

"Probably. There's not too much I can do about it. I'm taking the only precaution I can."

"What's that?" she asked, noticing that it was getting somewhat lighter.

"There are certain parts of my anatomy that I'd rather not get lacerated." He reached into a small recess in the side of the cave, and pulled out a small, folded bundle of cloth, which he shook out until it was about five feet long. He wrapped it around his waist and fastened it in place with a large copper pin. "Now you know what a man wears under his kilt," he told her with a wink. Then his face sobered. "Here's where you go back to the house and wait for me."

She nodded "Can I watch from the house?"

"I don't think they'd object. Move a chair over to the window. You may not hear much, though. We're quite a ways from the house. You'd better get going." He turned to an area of the cave which narrowed into a small crack, and started to enter it.

Rogue watched him for a moment, then quickly made her way back through the cave to the house. She took one of the chairs from in front of the fireplace and placed it by the window which faced the mound.

Night had fallen while she was asleep, and the stars provided the only illumination that evening. After several minutes, she saw him emerge from the earth in front of the mound. She decided that the cave led all the way to the mound.

He was scratched and bloody, and his kilt was about to fall off. He was bent over, and breathing heavily. He slowly stood up, looked down at himself, grimaced, and took the kilt off. Given the degree of the damage it had suffered in his climb out of the cave, it wasn't doing much good anyway.

Looking around the area, Rogue noticed that the mist that always seemed to settle on the ground late at night was thick enough to seem solid, and was rolling towards them from across the fields. Archetype faced the advancing mist, staring into it with eyes that were glowing once again.

Rogue realized with a start that the fog was not only getting closer, it was getting larger as well, thickening until it was as high as the roof of the house. The wall of fog flowed on, impenetrable and unstoppable. She watched it envelop Archetype, and was curiously unsurprised that it moved towards her. She held her breath and waited.

Then everything went grey.


	14. Chapter 14

She opened her eyes slowly, realizing as she did so that she was unaware of having closed them. She looked around, trying to find Archetype, but her eyes could not penetrate the mist which surrounded her.

After a few moments of listening for any sign of Archetype, she decided to simply sit down and wait. She leaned back, and landed unceremoniously on her rear end. She jumped up instantly, and felt around. The chair was gone. After a moment, she realized that the entire _house_ was gone, and that she was standing in the middle of nowhere.

Rather than panicking, she decided to wait and see what happened next. She quieted her breathing and listened intently. After a moment, she felt the faint stirrings of a breeze behind her. The wind blew some of the mist away, revealing a small path in front of her.

_Okay, I can take a hint_, she thought.

She followed the path, which seemed to twist and turn unexpectedly. After a few minutes, she found herself standing before a large, flat rock. She stepped on top of it, and noticed that the path disappeared back into the mist as she did so.

The mound which she had seen before the mist had borne down on her was still there, but it was... changed. Fires burned at either end, and the mist swirled around it in a clockwise motion, making it appear to be in the center of a hurricane. The dark, star-speckled night sky could be seen above it.

Archetype stood atop the mound, just as she had seen him before, seemingly listening for something., his eyes distant. She watched him for a moment, then focused her eyes on the mist surrounding them. She could see bright spots appear within the maelstrom, formed by lightning flashes which congealed into spheres of electricity, then floated out of the mist and approached Archetype.

Rogue had not seen ball lightning before, but had often seen Ororo frustrate herself trying to determine the right 'mix' of natural forces needed to create it. Ororo had given up on the whole idea some months before, when both she and Henry had agreed that whatever was missing was not found in a normal environment. Ororo, Rogue decided, would be more than a little annoyed to see not one, but _three_ spheres of ball lightning floating in the air. They surrounded Archetype, then circled him, as if in an orbit, trails of vapor following them.

The spheres broke their orbit around him and returned into the mist. Soon, the mist swirled, spinning slowly. It slowly started to gain definition, turning into a long tendril of fog, which soon began to glow. The glow started as a pure white, but threads of red, yellow, and green soon appeared within it. The spin of the mist increased, and it was soon moving faster than the eye could follow. The mist suddenly split into three tendrils, one for each of the three colors. The tendrils wove patterns in the air, interlocking in a complex weave of color.

They moved towards Archetype, gaining definition as they advanced. Each tendril developed two glowing points at the front. In a few moments, it became obvious that the shapes were dragons, which wove around him and intertwined. Their heads rose above him, looking down with stern expressions.

Will looked up at them, his face apprehensive. "Is there any other choice?" he asked in a quiet voice.

The ethereal dragons said nothing, but their eyes glowed brighter for an instant.

Archetype sighed and nodded, his head dropping. "Of course. There never is."

The dragons bore down upon him and struck. Archetype screamed in agony and fell to his knees. Rogue cried out and tried to rush to his aid, but found that she could not leave the rock on which she was standing.

Rogue recalled her promise of earlier that night. "Sorry, Will," she muttered as she tried to breach the unseen barrier. She watched Archetype writhe as flames coursed over his body. The fire focused on the insides of his forearms for a few moments, then died down. He groaned slightly, then collapsed in a faint.

The world dimmed for a moment, then Rogue realized that the car was where it had been earlier in the night. They had returned to the "real" world.

She rushed to his side and listened to his breathing, which seemed regular. She spent a few wild moments deciding how to carry him, finally resorting to wrapping her sweater around him and bringing him inside.

She laid him down on his bed, talking to him reassuringly. "You're okay, Will. Everything's going to be all right. It's over now..." He just groaned, then lapsed into unconsciousness. After a moment of searching through the bathroom, she found some bandages, which she wrapped around his bleeding arms, after having put on her gloves.

She stayed by his side for the rest of the night.

Rogue opened her eyes blearily, then awoke in an instant when she realized that the bed was empty. She looked around the room wildly, then noticed the sound of running water. She got up and walked over to the bathroom door. "Will," she asked, "are you okay?"

"I'm feeling better," he replied. "Be out in a minute."

"Okay." She went into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. A few minutes later, Archetype walked out in a T-shirt and sweatpants, toweling his hair dry. "There's a towel for you hanging on the bar," he told her.

"Thanks." She looked at his arms. "You took off the bandages?"

"Looks like my arms healed while I was out. So, what do you think?" he asked, holding out his arms, palms up.

The tattoos covered his lower arms, and wound around them in a pattern so complex that Rogue's eyes became lost trying to follow them. She noticed that each band - the red, the yellow, and the green - ended at some point with a head, which gripped the other end of one of the other colors, resulting in a single, unbroken ribbon. "Snakes?" she asked.

"Dragons," he said as he sat down. "I can't be too sure yet, but I think I'm supposed to be some sort of Pendragon."

"Pendragon?" she asked, puzzled. "You mean like _Arthur_ Pendragon?"

He nodded. "I think I'd like to rest for another day or so, then we'll head out."

"Where to now?"

"Well, first I thought that you might want to visit your friends in Excalibur. I have a good general idea of where Muir Island is."

"Okay, then where?"  
"I have something to do in Cornwall, in southern England. More specifically, in Glastonbury."

"What's there?"

"You'll see. Go on, take your shower. I'll start breakfast."

Rogue felt much better after her shower, and the smell of frying sausage reminded her of just how hungry she was. "I totally forgot about dinner last night," she confessed as she came out in jeans and a sweatshirt.

"I know. I just found it in the oven. For now, however, we have poached eggs, hash browns, and sausage."

"Great, I'm starved," she said as she sat down. She looked at him, noticing that his eyes were distant. "You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I'm just going to take another day or so to come back down to earth. I'll just sit around and read, or maybe take a nap. Unless there's something you'd like to do, of course."

She shook her head. "I could use the rest myself. Will we need to get anything?"

"I think I can scrounge us up another meal if I have to. Is there anywhere you want to go?"

"Not really. Where will you want to go after Glastonbury?"

"I don't know. We've got four days, at least. How does a whirlwind tour of Europe sound?"

"Fantastic! How are we traveling?"

"First class all the way. Any cities you want on the itinerary?"

"Paris!" she said instantly, her eyes bright.

"Don't be uncertain, dear," he said blandly. "Tell me what you _really_ want."

"Can I help it if I love Paris?"

"I won't hold it against you."

"What will you hold against me?" she asked with an arch look.

"Why don't we talk about that?"

They were both joking, of course, and they spent the day resting, either dozing in their chairs or reading quietly. At one point, Rogue awoke to find Archetype looking at her silently, his eyes thoughtful. "What's wrong?" she asked, yawning.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "You just look so gosh-darned cute when you're asleep."

"Thanks," she said, smiling, as she got up and stretched. "What time is it?"

"About three. Feel like going for a walk?"

"Why not?" She slipped on some sneakers, brushed her hair, and met him at the door.

"Where's your coat?" he asked. He carried a small bag with him.

"I didn't bring one. I didn't think it would get this cold."

"Here," he said, rummaging through his coats and handing her one.

"What's in the bag?" she asked.

"You'll see."

The breeze was brisk, but not chilly, and the sun was out. They walked along the road for a while, until they came to a large clearing. "This looks about right," he said, opening the bag and handing the contents to her. "Here you go."

"You've got to be kidding me. A _kite_?"

"Why not? It's perfect kite weather."

"Isn't this just a little childish?"

"You're making a common mistake, Rogue. You're confusing child_ish_ with child_like_." As he spoke, he took out another kite, which he proceeded to reel out and run with, allowing it to catch the breeze.

Rogue watched him for a moment, shrugged, then unreeled her own kite.

An hour later, they decided to head back. "I should give Excalibur a call and let them know that we're coming." she said.

"We can take care of that in town, when we get dinner."

"We're eating out again?"

"Why not? Besides, it'll give us an excuse to return the car."

An hour later, they were deciding where to eat. "How about something simple?" Rogue asked. "We can eat fancy when we get to Paris."

"All right. How about a burger?"

"That's simple enough for me."

One meal of burgers, fish, and chips later, they found a pay phone, where Rogue called Muir Island. "Kitty said come over anytime," she told him as she hung up.

"Let's get back and pack up, then." An instant later, they were in the cabin. "I'll wrap up the food and put it in a box."

"Why?"

"So we can give it to Excalibur. No sense in letting it go to waste."

Fifteen minutes later, they were ready. Archetype pulled an atlas of the British Isles off his bookshelf and opened it. "Now where exactly is Muir Island?" he asked her.

"Right here," she said, pointing.

His eyes became unfocused again. "Got it." Everything went dark for a moment, and they found themselves about two hundred yards away from the main entrance to the genetic research station. "This is the right place, isn't it?"

"You were right," she assured him. "See? Here comes Brian Braddock now." She was referring, of course, to the man once known as Captain Britain, who was flying towards them from the other side of the island.

"Rogue, we have a problem," Archetype said sharply.

"What's that?"

"He's not slowing down."

_Boom_.


	15. Chapter 15

Katherine Pryde was not, by nature, a forgetful person. She was, however, somewhat obsessive when she found a problem that intrigued her, and Moria MacTaggart had run into a problem with one of the gene-sequencing programs the night before. When she had picked up the call from Rogue, she had only half-listened to her as she rewrote some code in her mind, and had promptly forgotten about it ten seconds after she had hung up the phone.

The alert siren, however, brought her back to reality instantly. She slapped the intercom. "Kitty to Kurt. Who sounded the alarm?"

_"I don't know yet. Wait a minute. Brian is outside, in the middle of one _verdammt_ big crater."_

"Any idea why?"

_"No, I... Hold it, that's _Rogue_!"_

"Rogue?" Kitty quickly put the pieces together. "Kurt, hold it. This isn't what..." She was cut off by the _bamf_ sound of Kurt's teleportation process. She cursed and started running.

When Brian Braddock witnessed the sudden appearance of two people on the island, he followed his usual pattern of acting first and asking questions later. He moved at his top speed, reasoning that the resulting shock wave would be more effective than a direct impact.

He didn't, however, think about flying debris. Shards of rock flew in all directions, with the net result being similar to that of a shrapnel grenade.

Rogue, of course, was unharmed, and was simply thrown thirty feet or so by the shock wave. She scrambled up instantly, and leaped over to Braddock, who was arising from the crater which he had created. "What in the hell are you doing?" she shrieked at him.

"Rogue?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you call ahead?"

"I _did_, you idiot! "Me and Archetype called over fifteen minutes ago! Isn't that right..." Her voice trailed off when she realized that Archetype was still sprawled on the ground, face down. _"Will!"_ she cried as she rushed to his side, turning him over.

His eyes stared into space, unseeing, and the jagged wound across his neck still held the shard of rock which had flown into it. "Oh God..." she muttered to herself, as she quickly removed the stone as gingerly as possible. "This may take a while. Come on, powers, get your ass in gear..."

"Rogue," Braddock said quietly, shocked by what he had just done, "he's gone. There's nothing we can do."

She whirled on him angrily, eyes flashing. "If I didn't have to keep an eye on him, and if you weren't Betsy's brother, I'd flatten you right now."

Archetype, meanwhile, had recovered consciousness, or was, at least, on the way there. His eyes opened slowly, and were highly unfocused. The first thing he saw was a blur, but he recognized Rogue's outfit. She was standing in front of a much larger object, which appeared to tower over her.

His reaction was instantaneous. A twist of his mind altered local space, and Braddock was hurled a good kilometer away, landing in the ocean.

Archetype staggered to his feet, his neck askew and his eyes glowing. He straightened his neck, causing a series of crunching noises within his spine as he did so. Rogue watched, fascinated, as the wound in his neck closed. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously, his eyes literally alight.

"I'm fine," she assured him. Then she stared at him, watching his hair grey and his face become more lined. She realized that she was watching the aging which took place when he overextended himself. "You're aging again," she pointed out.

"I'll recover," he said, grimacing. "I just..." He suddenly stopped talking, whirled quickly, and swung at the air in front of him. His fist connected with Kurt's chin, and Kurt hit the ground, groaning. "You're _sure_ that these people are friends?" he asked, looking back at her.

"I don't understand," she confessed, "I called ahead! I don't know why they're..." She gasped as he was hit from behind by an energy blast.

"Meggan! Wait!" She shouted. "Nobody's attacking!" The blond shapeshifter stood above them, energy still crackling in one hand.

"Why is Brian in the bloody ocean, then?" she snapped back angrily.

"_He_ attacked _us_! Archetype was just defending himself."

"And I'm going to continue doing so," he growled as he stood up. He glanced at Meggan, and she was teleported to a position at ground level. "I have no desire to harm anyone here, Ma'am, but I've been attacked three times in the past five minutes, and it's starting to _piss me off_!" Her eyes were incandescent now, and the air around him seemed to shimmer as he tried to restrain his temper.

"Meggan, Brian really _did_ attack us," Rogue said calmly, trying to placate them both at once.

Meggan held her breath for a moment, then exhaled. "Why didn't you let us know you were coming?" she asked in a controlled voice.

"I called Kitty before we left! Didn't she tell you guys?"

"I haven't seen Kitty since last night," Meggan replied. Then her eyes widened. "Oh, no..."

"Nobody got your message," Archetype confirmed wryly. Then he looked over his shoulder at the rapidly advancing forms of Rahne Sinclair and Peter Wisdom. "Would you mind explaining the situation to those two?"

"No problem," Meggan replied. She flew over to the approaching two and settled them down.

"Here comes Kitty," Rogue observed. "She'll get this straightened out."

About two minutes later, after Kitty had explained the situation to the others, Archetype cut off her apologies with a wave of his hand. "Forget it. I'm the last person who'll voice a complaint against someone else's memory. How's your jaw, Mister Wagner?"

"Fine. You just stunned me, that's all."

"Good. That was my intention."

"How did you know where I was going to end up, anyway?"

"I felt the shift in local space-time."

"You get used to it," Rogue said, seeing Kurt's look of confusion.

"Would anybody mind if I sat down?" Archetype asked, doing so before anyone could answer. "I feel like I've been in a car wreck."

"I guess you'd know," Rogue quipped.

"Cheap shot."

"We'll get Moria to take a look at you," Kitty assured him.

He smiled grimly. "For all the good it'll do."

"I do _not_ believe this," Moria MacTaggart said as she looked upon row after row of static-filled monitors. "Magneto doesn't affect our systems this badly. Have things been this bad at the mansion, Rogue?"

She shook her head. "No. But the past few days have been a little hard on him. He said it'll take him another day or two to clear his head."

"I'll just have to give him an old-fashioned physical, then." She tapped on the window glass and motioned Archetype out of the scanner.

"Problem?" he asked as he entered the room.

"I can't get any readings on you. We'll just do a standard physical."

"All right," he shrugged. He looked pointedly at Rogue.

"I'm gonna go catch up on things with Kitty," she announced.

"Do that," he said.

"All right," Moria said after Rogue had shut the door, "strip and get on the table."

"Well, okay," he replied dubiously, "but I'm expecting dinner and a movie after it's all over."

Moria's jaw dropped, then her face hardened. "Just for that remark, I'm adding a prostate exam to the list."

"Promise?"

An hour or so later, they walked into the living quarters of the complex. "Any problems?" Rogue asked him.

"The doctor can certify that I'm perfectly healthy, inside and out," he replied with a perfectly straight face. "By the way, if you're planning on spending the night, the doctor and I have agreed that it would be best if I stayed at the house, rather than in the complex. If I'm around the equipment too long, I could damage it permanently."

"There's a lot of sensitive material in our files," Kitty fretted.

"The short-term effect is negligible," he assured her. "Actually, I have to take care of something outside, anyway. I'll go over to the other island. That should be far enough."

"Want a lift?" Rogue asked.

"No need," he said, as he opened one of his Doors. He walked into it, and the Door vanished.

"What's he going to do?" Kurt asked.

"I'm not sure. He's been channeling energy from all kinds of mystical places for days now."

"How old is he?" Kitty asked.

"That seems to depend on what kind of day he's had."

"Excuse me?"

"You'll have to see it to believe it. How old does he look to you?"

Kitty thought a moment. "Well, the hair threw me for a minute. I'd say he's in his mid-thirties."

"I checked his files. He's thirty-two. The point is that when he's injured, he ages, then gets younger as he heals. He's pretty sure he's immortal."

Wisdom whistled softly. "I'm glad he's on our side. I wouldn't want to get on the bad side of a man who could collect on an old grudge years later."

"He seems a little... distracted, though," Kurt observed.

That led into an explanation of Archetype's powers, and his theories regarding their origin. "He's an omipath?" Kitty asked.

"We don't know yet. We don't think he's reached the upper levels of his powers. The Professor and Jean have been working with him to test his limits."

"Has Betsy been helping at all?" Braddock asked.

Rogue fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment. "To be honest, Brian, he's been avoiding Betsy for the most part. I think he's been trying to avoid an uncomfortable situation."

"How so?"

"Before he got his place in western Ireland, he lived in Belfast. I got the feeling that his views on Irish politics get a little extreme."

Brian's nostrils flared. "You think he might be I.R.A.?"

"No. He doesn't seem the type to join a group like that. He may be a sympathizer, though. Don't quote me on that," she added hastily. "I have no proof one way or the other. It may just be a basic dislike of the English. I kind of got the idea when he said we were going to Cornwall instead of England."

"What's he planning to do there?" Kurt asked, trying to head off an argument.

"He said that he had something to do at Glastonbury Tor."

Wisdom frowned. "The Tor? What would he have to do there?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure _he_ is. He gets these hunches pretty regularly, and he just follows them." Rogue had decided to avoid a conversation mentioning the Sidhe. She simply didn't know enough to explain it to them. She was, after a few minutes, able to shift the conversation away from Archetype, and they were soon catching up and reminiscing about old times.

Meggan, who had been quietly reading in her chair, suddenly snapped her head up. "What the devil was that noise?"

"What noise?" everyone asked at once.

Rogue suddenly understood. "It's him."

Meggan rushed over to the adjoining room, which faced the island of Little Muir. She threw the curtain aside and gasped.

Archetype sat, cross-legged, at the center of the island. Waves of energy coursed over the island, flowing over the rocky ground and approaching him. They seemed to enter his body from the base of his spine, and traveled upwards through his frame, leaving through a point at the center of his forehead, where they returned to the ground.

Wisdom looked at Rogue. "You mean you're getting used to _that_?"

Rogue shrugged in return. "You sort of get numb after a while."

It turned out to be Wisdom, surprisingly, who had the explanation for Archetype's actions. "The one saving grace that Black Air had was that they drummed a lot of stuff about mysticism and the occult into my head. They were willing to use anything to get ahead in the power game. The energy that he was channeling was leaving his body through what's called the third eye in Eastern mysticism. If he was recharging his batteries, Rogue, that's the way he'd probably go about it."

"I'll take your word for it. He went back to the house, right?"

"Right," Meggan confirmed. "I'll have to talk with him later. I've never thought of doing that."

"Doing what?" Kitty asked.

"Remember that book on electrical power you lent me?"

"The one with the historical perspective?"

"That's the one. He just became a Tesla coil."

Kitty looked dubious. "You've got to be kidding. No one's used those in years."

"Actually, Kitty, there's been a lot of research done into Tesla's principles over the past few years," Braddock disagreed. "Edison smeared Tesla in America, but he wasn't as successful in Europe." He smiled slightly. "It's a bit ironic, in a way. The huge office buildings and research labs that Edison inspired are lit by florescent bulbs today, which were invented by Tesla."

"Anyway," Meggan continued, "what he did was let the energy pass through him, through his body's energy field, then return back to the earth. Nothing was used up, but it recharged his body's systems as it went through him. I guess it's sort of like how a kidney machine purifies the blood of a diabetic. From what I saw of his body's energy field, he's a little tired, but a lot healthier than he was a few minutes ago."

"From what I've seen of how his powers work, he's gonna sleep for a few hours," Rogue mused.

"Wrong answer, but thank you for playing," Archetype said from behind her.

By now, Rogue was too used to this sort of thing to even bother turning around. The others, however, did double takes. "Feeling better?" she asked.

"Much, thanks," he said as he flexed his arms. "I need to loosen up, though. Mister Wagner, might I have a brief word with you?" He and Kurt talked quietly for a few moments, then returned.

"We've decided to get a bit of exercise," Archetype told the others. "A brief fencing match will take place outside in fifteen minutes. Mister Wagner has been kind enough to lend me one of his rapiers. Standard right-of-way rules, Mister Wagner?"

"I have no problem with that," Kurt replied. "Meggan, you should remember enough of what I've taught you to act as a referee for the match."

"Okay," she agreed. "Do you want to change?" she asked, looking at Archetype.

"Not a bad idea," he decided. "Be back in a minute." He vanished, reappearing a few minutes later wearing a white turtleneck and black jeans. "Do you use a mask when you train, Mister Wagner?"

"Not when I'm using foil, but I'd prefer to for rapier."

"I prefer not to use a mask, if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself."

They chose a suitable spot outside the complex and took their opening stances. Kurt took an offensive position, while Archetype chose a defensive stance. "_En garde_, Herr Wagner," Archetype said, inclining his head.

They were both fast, and soon the others had trouble keeping track of who had the upper hand. Meggan, who was the most experienced fencer outside of the two competitors, felt that they were evenly matched. Kurt had an edge in experience, but Archetype seemed to have an intuitive feel for just where the next thrust or sweep of Kurt's blade was going to be.

After a few minutes, however, Archetype jumped back, placing his rapier underneath his left shoulder, and holding it in place with his arm. "Stop," he said shortly.

"What is it?" Kurt said, putting up his sword.

"We've got company coming," he replied, pointing.

The helicopters were still some distance away, but Meggan's eyesight was good enough to pick out some details. "They've got Black Air markings, Kurt."

"Wonderful," Kurt groaned. "I thought we dealt with them last time. I'm sorry, Rogue, but your vacation just ended. We'll need your help against these murderers."

"No problem," Rogue replied.

"That may not be necessary, Mister Wagner," Archetype cut in. "What are your feelings on extreme prejudice?"

"I don't want anyone killed," Kurt said firmly.

"Understood." Archetype looked at the advancing helicopters and furrowed his brow for a moment. They suddenly started spinning in place, unable to maneuver.

"What did you do?" Kitty asked curiously.

"Teleported their tail rotors off. Where do you want the passengers?"

Kitty and Kurt looked at one another for a moment, then shrugged. "The ocean?"

"You got it." His eyes flashed for a moment, and they saw the splashes that the six men made as they hit the water. "What about the choppers?"

"Can you drop them on Little Muir? We've wanted a chance to see just how advanced the Black Air technology is."

"There you go." The choppers appeared at ground level.

"Did the teleportation affect the electronic systems?" Kitty asked.

"No, but I'd better keep my distance so that I don't fry them accidentally. I'd watch out for boobytraps, if I were you. If these guys are as paranoid as you say, they've probably got some major security built in."

"I can handle that," Meggan supplied. "If the security has an electronic or chemical basis, I can cancel it out."

"Good," Kurt said. "You and Kitty get to work on downloading all the information those heaps have in them. See if you can identify any armaments while you're at it. I want to know who's supplying Black Air these days."

"I thought you'd dealt with these guys, Kurt," Rogue said.

"We destroyed their main bases, but they've gone underground, and we've had some trouble tracking them down. If we can find out who's arming them, it'll be a big help."

"Will I be needed for anything else?" Archetype asked.

Kurt shook his head. "I don't think so. Why don't you two get a bite to eat? Rahne's cooking tonight."

Rogue made a face. "Can we order out?"

Dinner was actually quite good. Moria, while masquerading as housekeeper for the X-Men, had become a proficient cook, and had passed that knowledge along to Rahne.

"So," Kitty asked Archetype as they ate, "what do you have to do in Glastonbury?"

"I don't know yet," he confessed. "I probably won't know until I get there."

"Why Glastonbury?" Moria cut in. "There's nothing there but the old monastery."

"You're not up on your history, Doctor," he replied in a chiding tone. "The original monastery was, according to legend, founded by a group of both Christian monks and Druids, who were in turn instructed by Jesus himself."

"Hold it," Rahne interrupted. "The legends say that Jesus was in _Cornwall_?"

"I just recite them, Miss Sinclair, I don't explain them. The legend goes on to say that the priests and Druids worshipped together, believing that they worshipped the same God, only in different ways. Later, when Christianity became hostile towards other faiths, the Druids retreated into the mists, and entered the realm of Avalon."

"Bradley uses that theme in _The Mists of Avalon_, doesn't she?" Kitty asked.

"Yes. I've studied most of the available translations of Druidic and Arthurian lore that are out there. It's a hobby that predates my... transformation." He stood up. "Does anybody want help with the dishes?"

"We've got a dishwasher," Kitty supplied. "Get some rest. You've had a busy day."

"I've got a feeling that it's not over yet," he replied distantly, his eyes staring into space.

"Why do you say that?" Brian asked.

"Just a hunch. Good night, all." He disappeared again.

"Why do I get the feeling that man should come with subtitles?" Kitty mused.

"He's a complicated guy," Rogue agreed.

"That reminds me," Moria said, "I wanted to let you know. Those tattoos of his aren't tattoos."

"They're not?"

"No. The pigmentation of his skin has been altered. Those snakes on his arms are similar to birthmarks. If you hadn't told me that they were only a few hours old, I'd think that he'd been born with them."

Rogue shook her head. "I'm telling you, they date from last night."

"No," Meggan said with a mysterious smile, "he was born with them."

Rogue looked at her for a moment, confused, then yawned. "I think I'd better hit the sack myself. I've been doing all of the driving for the past few days, and it's starting to catch up with me."

"We set up the spare bed for you," Meggan supplied. "Come on. Were we able to salvage all of your things?"

"After I moved a few rocks, yeah. The suitcase died, though."

Rahne Sinclair had always been a night person. It often got her into trouble - no, _more_ trouble, she corrected herself - with Reverend Craig, who believed that it was one more reason to brand her as a wicked child. As she had grown up, she had learned to appreciate her freedom, and often went out to wander around under the moonlight when the weather permitted. The night had proven to be clear, although it was, as usual, quite cold.

This was, however, no problem for someone who had a built-in fur coat. She shifted into her transitional form as she stepped outside, and wandered along the shore of the island, listening to the pounding of the surf against the rocks. She savored the salt tang in the air, made even stronger by her enhanced senses, and gazed at the lights of the town in the distance.

As she passed by the house, she caught an unfamiliar scent. "Is that you, Mister Archetype?"

Archetype walked out of the shadows, his eyes glowing slightly. "You can't sleep either?"

"No." She looked at him for a moment. "You don't seem too bothered by my appearance."

He shrugged. "If I can deal with an eight-hundred pound Cookie Monster look-alike at the mansion, I can certainly put up with a werewolfette. You a night owl?"

"Aye. I think it might be a result of my mutation. Aren't you cold?" she asked, noticing that he was barefoot and shirtless.

"I tend to ignore weather. It's not like I'm going to freeze to death."

"I guess not." She paused a moment. "I'm sorry I wasn't very sociable to you earlier. I tend to be a little shy."

"Don't worry about it. So do I. Tell me, do you know anything about the history of this island?"

"I've spent more time here than anyone else, except for the Lady, of course. What did you want to know?"

"Was there ever a battle here?"

Rahne frowned. "I think so. With Vikings in the tenth century, I think."

He nodded. "That explains a few things."

"What things?"

"What did Rogue tell you about my abilities?"

"She said that you're in contact with the collective soul."

"That's as good a way of putting it as any. Anyway, if something left a psychic imprint that was strong enough, I can feel it. See that pile of stones over there?" he asked, pointing to a small tripod of rocks about a hundred yards away. "That's a burial mound."

"It is?"

He nodded. "One of the good doctor's ancestors is buried there. I think I'll tell her in the morning. He was a clan chief. Of course he'd have to be, to rate a cairn. Well," he said, "I'd better get to bed. See you in the morning, Miss Sinclair."

"Good night. Wait a minute," she said as he walked off. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"Rogue told us a little about what happened to you last night. I'm just curious - with the way you're in contact with all different cultures at the same time, what do you choose when it comes to a religious faith?"

He shrugged. "It's all the same to me - literally. To me, all religions are seeking the same thing. It's only the methods they use and the degree to which they tolerate differences of opinion that divide them. The primary reason that I chose Wicca was because it fits in well with my ancestry, and because it says that all other religions are equally valid. Besides, it just feels _right_ to me. Good night, Miss Sinclair."

"Good night."

She stood there for a while, staring at the cairn.

The next morning, Archetype walked in at about ten. "You all set to go?" he asked Rogue.

She nodded. "Where are we going after this?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to do today. I may wind up getting banged up again."

"_Try_ not to get killed this time."

"Oh, all right," he said in a petulant, childish voice.

"Mind if we come along?" Kitty asked "I have to admit, I'm curious."

"Fine with me," he shrugged. "Be prepared to walk, though. Do you know anything about the Tor?"

"Not much," Kitty admitted. "It's at the top of a hill, right?"

"Right. A path has been carved into the hill that winds back and forth, up and down. You approach the top nine times, then go back down nine times, then back up nine times, then finally reach the top."

"What's at the top?"

"That depends on where you are at the time," he replied with a mysterious smile.

"That one flew right by me," Kurt confessed.

"Ask Rogue about my lecture on levels of meaning," Archetype advised. "Shall we go?"

The Midnight Runner flew over the Cornish countryside at Mach One, its visual and radar cloaks keeping it invisible to the rest of the world.

"Look, Braddock, all I can tell you is that it's necessary for you to be there," Archetype said in an irritated voice. "I don't know exactly why."

"You're the one with the lock on cosmic meaning," Brian countered. "Don't you have any clue as to why you're doing this?"

Archetype started to speak, then stopped himself, and breathed sharply. "What do you know about Arthurian legend?"

"Not much," Brian admitted. "I was more into science than literature when I grew up."

"The Tor, according to some versions of the legend, is Avalon. That, theoretically, was the final resting place for Arthur. Whether or not it's factually true, it's probably true in the collective psyche, which makes it a place that has a lot of untapped power. I'm going to try and channel some of that psychic energy, the same way I did at Muir." He frowned. "Something else is going to happen, though."

"What's that?" Meggan asked.

"I have no idea. That's one of the reasons you're all coming along. I tend to run with dangerous forces. If it turns out to be something that I can't handle, then you're my backup. Hopefully, you can put whatever I let out back into its box."

"We're the damage control, then," Wisdom remarked.

"Essentially. I doubt if you'll be directly involved with anything."

"Approaching Glastonbury," Kitty announced. "Where should we land, Kurt?"

"Just pick a good spot within walking distance." He looked at Archetype. "Any suggestions from your end would be welcome."

Archetype scratched his chin for a moment. "Mister Braddock: stay close to me. It may be possible that I'll become violent for a few moments. Miss Meggan, monitor me if you can. You might be able to predict my next move."

"That'd be a first," muttered Rogue.

"Be nice," Archetype said. "Just be prepared for anything."

"Touchdown," Kitty announced. "Opening outside hatch. Bring your coats, everyone. It look like a storm's brewing."

"In more ways than one," Archetype replied.

They stepped out into a veil of mist. The sun had not yet been up long enough to burn off the fog which had risen from the nearby lake during the night. Rogue, who had not packed her uniform for the trip, slipped on her sweater. Kitty looked at her, raised one eyebrow, and followed. "Where did you get that sweater?" she asked in a low whisper.

Fog seems to encourage whispering, because the speaker has no real way of knowing if someone is nearby. "He gave it to me," Rogue whispered back.

"_Gave_? Do have any idea how much that sweater is worth?"

"Nope. What is it? Seventy, eighty bucks?"

"Try about three hundred."

Rogue gaped at her for a moment. "You're kidding."

Kitty shook her head. "What is he, rich?"

"You wouldn't believe it. Any idea where we're going?" She had noticed that they were taking a rather meandering route, but she mostly wanted to deflect Kitty's attention from the fact that her mouth was still hanging open. She looked at her sweater, and swallowed.

An hour later, she swallowed again, this time from thirst. They had been walking ever since they had stepped off the plane, and had traveled up and down the hill so many times that she had lost count.

One of the disadvantages of being able to fly, Rogue reflected, was that you lost perspective as to how much of a pain in the butt it was to walk everywhere. Her feet ached, and the rising sun had not only burned off the mist, but had raised the temperature enough to make her sweater a hindrance. She shrugged it off, tying the sleeves around her waist.

"Is it much farther, Papa Smurf?" Wisdom panted.

"We're nearly there." Rogue had noticed, with some resentment, that neither he nor Meggan had shown any sign of tiring. They both, in fact, seemed even more energetic than before.

"All right, we're done," he announced as they reached the summit.

"Excalibur," Kurt said in a weak voice, "at ease!" They all, with the exception of Meggan and Archetype, dropped to the ground.

Archetype looked at Meggan. "Sorry looking bunch, aren't they?"

"Kurt," Kitty muttered, "remind me to kill him after I've taken my nap."

"You have time for one," Archetype informed her. "Nothing's going to happen for about a half-hour or so."

"What happens then?"

"I don't want to spoil the surprise. Now if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make." He removed the blue denim shirt that he had worn, revealing his tattoos, then took off his shoes and socks, tossing them a few feet away. "I can understand why you stay barefoot, Miss Meggan. If there was this much concentrated power around me, I'd stay in contact with it as much as possible."

"It's not just that," Meggan confessed. "I was barefoot until I was in my teens, so my foot bones were never molded into the shape would make shoes comfortable."

"Is that why you two are disgustingly chipper?" Braddock groaned. "You've been drawing power from the ambient magical energy?"

"'Fraid so, luv," Meggan said with a smirk. "I'm cheating."

"I've been doing it for a reason, at least," Archetype said. "Now please be quiet, all of you. This is going to require some concentration." He closed his eyes, raising his hands, palms up, to waist level, and slowly turned around clockwise in a full circle. His eyes, when he opened them again, were glowing.

His gaze wandered over the area, and seemed to go in all directions, without rhyme or reason. He wandered aimlessly for a few seconds, then looked at an spot in front of him for a moment, his face twisted in a grimace of confusion.

"Okay," he said, "now what?"

Then his face brightened. "Of course." He took one step forward, and stood on empty air.

Kitty's jaw dropped. "You didn't tell me he could fly," she whispered to Rogue.

"He's not," she whispered back. "I'll explain later." They were both quelled into silence by a glare from Meggan.

Wisdom, who was flat on his back, felt the first breath of wind. "Wonderful," he muttered as he belted up his trenchcoat.

As Archetype continued to walk above them, weaving a twisting, sinuous path in the air, they all felt the air become charged, as if a lightning bolt were about to strike. They did, in fact, hear the rumble of distant thunder, which grew louder by the moment.

"I don't want any of you getting hurt," he told them. "This should prevent that." There was a strange timbre to his voice which was almost an echo.

He waved his hand, and everything seemed to darken suddenly, day becoming twilight.

"Meggan," Braddock hissed urgently, "what the hell is happening?"

"He put us someplace where we can watch him without being in danger." Meggan said simply, as they watched Archetype step back onto solid ground. "We're on another level."

"Levels of meaning," Rogue whispered to herself. "_That's_ what he was talking about!"

The rumble grew louder, and they realized that it was coming from one direction. They all looked at the darkened hillside, and saw the flickering shadows of movement.

The herd of deer leaped over the hill in a blur, sprinting across the plateau straight towards Archetype. They bore down on him, fully intent on trampling him to get across the stretch of open land, back into the shelter of trees.

He simply raised his right hand, palm up, and the herd split in two and flowed around him as if he were as immobile as a tree.

Strangely, they did not continue across to the other slope of the hill, but spread out along the top of the hill, making a rough circle. Rahne gasped as one ran right through her.

They all felt, rather than heard, the approach of the stag.

Braddock, who had been taken, unwillingly, on the hunting trips of his father's friends as a boy, was convinced that it was the largest buck that he had ever - no, that _anyone_ had ever seen. Its antlers had nine points, and it bore the scars of countless fights proudly. "That thing must be ancient," he whispered.

"You have no idea," Meggan replied.

The other deer lowed their heads in submission to the ancient beast, who looked at them steadily, then fixed his gaze on Archetype, who just looked at him steadily. He stood in a crouch, as if he were about to bolt.

"That thing's going to attack him!" Kitty gasped.

"Anybody remember what his last words were, just in case anyone asks later?" Wisdom asked.

Archetype nodded his head slightly to the stag. It was the sort of gesture of respect that one gave to an equal, rather than as the answer to a question.

The stag, unbelievably, nodded in return. He and Archetype circled one another warily, and then he charged.

Rogue wanted to shut her eyes, but found that she couldn't. She therefore saw the impossible leap that Archetype made, a full ten feet, right over the deadly advance of the stag. He landed on his feet, and turned to face the stag as it recovered from its charge.

The stag turned around quickly, and came back for another charge. This time Archetype sidestepped the strike, moving too quickly for the stag to adjust its point of aim.

This continued for a long time. Archetype would leap over or sidestep the charges of the stag. They appeared evenly matched, but Rogue could see that Archetype was beginning to tire. His face was becoming more lined, and his hair was greying rapidly. "He can't take much more of this," she whispered. "He has to change his strategy."

As Archetype rolled through the now muddy ground yet again, he seemed to come to the same conclusion. He looked around frantically, as if searching for something that he couldn't find. His attention distracted, he provided an opportunity for the stag to slash his back with his antlers.

Rogue gasped as Archetype arched his back in pain, staggering blindly for a moment. He stumbled, and landed face first in the mud.

As he rose slowly, he stared at the ground dumbly for a moment. Rogue saw his attention wander moving from the mud at his feet to his hands, then finally to the tattoos, barely visible through the mud, which adorned his arms. She saw the flash of realization in his eyes, although realization of just _what_, she had no idea.

"He's got an idea," she whispered.

Archetype took a deep breath and put his right hand on the ground. They all saw the dragons flow off his arm, slither across the grass, and burrow into the earth.

He stood up, eyes defiant, and faced the stag again. He raised his left arm, palm outward, and the dragons on that arm started to writhe and hiss. They all heard the whisper of scales grinding against one another.

The stag backed up, uncertain for a moment, then charged again.

Archetype narrowed his eyes for a moment, and one of the dragon heads rose up off his arm, opened its mouth, and shot a jet of flame at the stag, which reared up and broke off its charge.

Archetype continued to counter the attacks of the stag with jets of flame, but did not press his advantage. "What's he doing?" Kitty whispered. "He could char broil that thing in an instant."

"I don't think he's supposed to," Rogue whispered back. "Something else is going to happen."

A few minutes later, they saw the ground behind Archetype start to buckle and churn. The dragons from his right arm wriggled out of the turf, dragging a black, pitted thing along with them. They made their way to Archetype, who held his arm out to them, beckoning them to come back. He crouched slightly, putting his bare arm closer to the ground. The stag, panicking, tried to attack, but the flame roaring in front of him terrified him too much.

The dragons crawled back up Archetype's arms, and the end of the black object fell into his hand. As his hand wrapped around it, the dragons reared up again, and wreathed the object in flame. The object started to glow, and the black started to melt and fall away, revealing the sword beneath, a bright blade which looked like it had been forged yesterday.

The stag was nearly hysterical now, and was desperately trying to find an opening to attack. He backed up and charged again, but Archetype's dragons shot from his left arm, stretched out, and wrapped themselves around its antlers. Archetype braced himself, pulled sharply, and the stag crashed to the ground.

The stag stood up, enraged, then backed up for another charge. Archetype looked at him sadly, sighed, and took a defensive stance with his sword.

The stag stomped the ground for a moment, then charged. Archetype stood stock still for a long moment, then dropped to one knee, and struck. The dragons leapt out, hurling the stag a few feet high, placing the deadly antlers out of harm's way. Archetype then braced himself, and thrust the sword directly into the stag's chest.

Rogue had never heard a deer scream before. The sound was chilling. The stag was impaled on the sword, its blood pouring down the blade. An impossibly large amount of blood gushed from the wound, covering Archetype completely, flowing over the ground. The flow became a torrent, and the ground became a lake, which Rogue and the others seemed to float harmlessly above. Archetype and the stag seemed to sink into the lake of blood, disappearing into its depths. As they did so, they seemed to melt together, merging into one being, which sank into the crimson sea.

"Where is he?" Rogue asked, panicking. "Meggan, tell me where he is!"

"I have no idea," Meggan said as calmly as if she had been asked a bit of trivia.

"Rogue," Kurt said, taking her shoulder and pointing, "look."

The sword, point first, slowly rose from the surface of the pool of blood, which was rapidly receding. Archetype, eyes glowing, inexplicably, spotlessly clean, stood in the center of the plateau, holding the sword aloft, the dragons writhing along his forearms once again. He waved the sword absently, and the light returned to normal.

They all stared at one another for a moment, then at Archetype. "Is it over?" Rahne asked timidly.

He nodded, then walked away.

Rogue started to follow him, but Meggan's hand on her arm stopped her. "He's going to need at least a few minutes alone, Rogue. He has to come back to earth."

Rogue looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Was any of that real?"

Meggan didn't say anything, but pointed at Archetype's back, and the bloody scar that ran all the way down it.


	16. Chapter 16

"Where will you be going now?" Kurt asked.

They had all returned to the research center to relax and debrief. Moira had examined Archetype again, pronouncing him fully healthy, although he did complain of feeling "different".

"Well, this young lady," he replied, nodding at Rogue, "wanted to see Paris. Since I have some business interests there, we'll leave this afternoon. We'll make one last stop in Brussels, then it's back to New York."

"What's there to see in Brussels?" Kitty inquired.

"The best chocolate in the world," he said with a dreamy smile. He stood up, pulling a calling card out of his wallet. "May I use your phone for a moment? I'd like to make some hotel reservations."

Moria waved her hand imperiously. "Put that thing away. If we can afford neutronium barbells for Brian, we can pay for a phone call to Paris. The phone's over there."

Archetype tilted his head in acknowledgment and started dialing, then stopped. "Uh oh."

"What?" Rogue asked.

"I just remembered that I don't speak French."

"Let me," she said, taking the phone. "Do you want a double suite again?"

He nodded. "Tell them we'll be there in three hours or so. I'll just teleport us over."

"Why not take the Chunnel?" Meggan asked.

"Because I'm wanted for questioning by British authorities," he replied calmly.

Braddock's head shot up at that. "For what?"

"I'm considered a suspected Sinn Fein member. I'm not," he said hastily, seeing how Braddock was tensing up, "but I _have_ made statements, on record, critical of Britain's Ulster policy."

"And your feelings on the Irish Republican Army?"

"Those are my own business, Mister Braddock," Archetype said flatly, "and they have no bearing on my association with the X-Men." He stood up. "I believe that I've just worn out my welcome. Rogue, if you have no objections, we'll leave immediately. I'll go get my coat." He left the room.

"_That_ could have gone better," Rahne muttered.

"I warned you about his political views, Brian," Rogue said, hurt. "Why did you even bring it up?"

Braddock found that he didn't have an answer for her.

A few minutes later, after Rogue had finished stuffing her things into the large suitcase that Kitty had given her, she met Archetype at the main door to the center. "All set," she said. "We're going straight to Paris?"

"Yes. Our reservations at the George V are set."

Her jaw dropped. "We're staying at the George V? That place costs a fortune!"

"Yes," he agreed. "Lucky for us, I've got a fortune."

"What about food?"

He shrugged. "We'll find something." He turned to the members of Excalibur, who had filtered into the room to see them off. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said, nodding curtly.

"Mister Riley," Meggan said, "Brian has something that he'd like to say to you." She turned to Braddock with a hard look. "_Don't_ you, Brian?"

Braddock looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I want to apologize for my attitude earlier. I've been on the wrong side of the government myself, so I really didn't have any cause to be short with you."

"That's all right, Mister Braddock." Archetype said magnanimously. "I'm used to rubbing people the wrong way. If I can get used to Cyclops, I can get used to you... even if you are symbolic of a corrupt, morally bankrupt imperialist policy."

"Gee, thanks," Braddock said dryly.

"No charge. Honestly, Braddock, I've nothing against you personally, but I lived in Belfast for a few years, and that tends to harden one's heart. If it makes you feel any better, I'm equal opportunity: I also support the Scottish National Party."

"Really?" Moria asked, "How so?"

"I've made a few donations over the years. To be honest, what I'd like to see is a breakup of the Commonwealth into its component parts: Erie, Cymru, Alba, Cornwall, and England."

"Unlikely," Kurt remarked.

"Hey, I can dream, can't I? You all set?" he asked Rogue.

"Ready. Let's go to Paris. Bye, guys!" she said brightly as they winked out.

"An immortal billionaire with Celtic nationalist ambitions," Wisdom mused. "Well, I know what I'm doing next time I take a vacation."

"What's that?" Kitty asked.

"Looking into dual citizenship."

"Do you want to go anywhere in particular? I was going to place us by the Arc d'Triumphe." They stood in the black, featureless terrain which lay within Archetype's Doors.

"Not really. Let's just walk for a while. I haven't been to Paris in a while, and I've always had something or other distracting me every other time I've been here. Do you have a lot to do with your business contacts?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Actually, Rogue, I'll let you in on a little secret: I made my money by being lazy."

She frowned. "I don't get it."

"I'm a silent partner in most of my businesses. If I find somebody who wants to start a business, I lend them the starting capital, then let them run it their own way. They have an option of buying me out if they want, but most don't because I can come in and help out if things get bad. This way, I can make a profit and not have to do anything. It's a nice little system that fits in well with my personal philosophy."

"What's that?"

"There are two forces which get things done in life: self-interest and laziness."

"Isn't that just a bit cynical?"

"Not really. Think about it: why do most people drive to places they could easily walk to?"

"Because it's easier to drive."

"Exactly. They're too lazy to expend the effort to walk. And why do most people get up and go to work every day?"

"Personal satisfaction?"

"Very good. Now, can we have a realistic answer?"

"To get the money they need to survive," she said glumly.

"Or the things that they want. My first rule of business is to appeal to my client's base nature, then work my way up."

"If you have them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow?" she asked with a smile.

"You _are_ a quick study."

"Thank you."

They made the rounds of a few art galleries, then went to a rather posh outdoor café, where, although Rogue found the food delicious, Archetype found it somewhat lacking. "I can do better," he disclosed, "and at better prices than they're asking."

"Oh, stop complaining," Rogue said cheerfully. "At least you're not the one sweating behind the stove."

"Good point. We'll stop at the hotel and check in once we're done here. After that, our itinerary is up to you."

"Great." Her face became a bit more serious. "Will, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Exactly what happened to you last night?"

He sat for a few moments, eyes distant. "Before I can explain that, I think I may have to tell you something about what happened to me when I recovered from my accident. I wandered all over the world for the better part of two years, feeling drawn to specific places."

"Like where?"

"Stonehenge, for one. Also Maccu Picchu, Ur, Luxor, Rome, Istanbul, Beijing, Knossos, Jerusalem, Mali, and Tibet, for starters. Notice any connections?"

"They're all ancient sites. But why Mali?"

"It was the center of an empire in the 1400s. Essentially, I went to places that had massive psychic energy associated with them." His eyes became sad for a moment. "I was also drawn to places that had negative associations attached to them."

"Like where?"

"We're only a few hours drive away from one of them. Omaha Beach."

"Oh."

"Also, there was the Coliseum, the Bastille, the Appian Way..."

"Where?"

"The road along which Spartacus and his army were crucified. There was also Transylvania..."

"What? You went to see Dracula?"

"No, his historical counterpart, Vlad Tsepes. And of course, there was what I refer to as the Grand Tour."

"What was that?"

"Dachau. Bergen-Belsen. Treblinka. Auschwitz-Berkanow. I'm sure you get the idea."

"How can you be so flippant about that?"

"It's either that or go into hysterics. As bad as it sounds just to hear about it, imagine feeling the psychic imprints left by those places. To hear the echoes, however faint, of each dying child..."

"_Will_!" Rogue said sharply, seeing that he was drifting off. "Snap out of it!"

His head snapped up. He blinked, then inhaled sharply. "Thanks. You have no idea how easy it is to get lost in those collective memories. I almost collapsed at Auschwitz. Anyway, what happened last night was, as far as my experiences with those places go, one of the better ones."

"You see, the Celts believed that the king was bound to the land, and that the crops were dependent on the health of the king. For centuries, the kings underwent a ceremony that tied them to the land. Because the deer were a major food source for the people, the king was also considered the master of the hunt, and was given power over the herds by the gods. But in order to claim that power, the king had to conquer the _old_ king of the herd, the King Stag. Now, whether that battle took place on a physical or psychic level, I have no idea. Anyway, what I went through was a concentrated form of the psychic events that bound the Celtic kings to the land."

"So now you're a king?"

"On a psychic level, sure. I wouldn't make any bets on my finding a throne, though."

"Well, your Majesty," she said, standing up, "shall we get to our hotel?"

"Okay, but if I stay here, does that make you a lady in waiting?" He ducked to avoid the baguette she threw at him.

Their suite at the George V was divided by a set of sliding doors, which the bellhop opened as they entered. "Will you require anything, madam?"

"No, that will be all, thank you," Rogue replied, handing him a generous tip. She and Archetype had decided that, since she was fluent in French, she would be 'in charge' while they were in France.

As the door shut, she leaned back, falling onto the bed, and sighed. "I could get used to this."

"Should I start serving you breakfast in bed every day when we get back to Salem Center?"

"Let me get back to you on that."

"I await with bated breath." He yawned. "I think a nap is in order."

"Are you okay?" she asked with some concern.

"I'm fine. Last night drained me a little, that's all. I just need a few hours sleep."

"I could stand a nap, myself. Here's an idea: we get two or three hours sleep, then go out on the town."

"I can live with that. Actually, this way I can mix with business with pleasure."

"Really? How?"

"You'll see. Do you want to factor in some shopping time?"

"With a blank check? Are you kidding? Of course." She waved him away. "Now scoot. I'm scheduled for a coma, and you're making me late."

"Yes, _ma'am_," he replied, shooting her a two-fingered salute. He shut the doors behind him as he left.

Rogue called the front desk for a wake-up call to be made three hours later, then shut the curtains, stripped down to her underwear, and settled underneath the covers with a contented sigh.

The ring of the telephone jarred her awake, and she fumbled for the receiver. "H'lo?" she mumbled.

"_Hello, Miss O'Hara!"_ a female voice answered. The voice had the bright, cheerful quality that makes most sleepy people want to reach through the phone line and strangle the speaker. _"This is the wake-up call which you requested!"_

"Thank you," Rogue said as she put the receiver back into the cradle. After thinking about the wisdom of the whole thing for a few moments, she slid out of bed and stood up, stretching.

She started to reach for a bathrobe, but then decided that if she could handle seeing Will nude, then he could handle her in her underwear. She strode up to the doors, sliding them open.

Archetype lay on his stomach, his breathing deep and regular. His face was expressionless, and Rogue was amazed by how much younger he looked when in repose.

"Archetype?" she asked softly. "Will? Are you asleep?"

"Now that's a question that simply can't be answered yes," he replied. He opened his eyes as he turned over, and cocked one eyebrow as he saw her. "My, my, aren't we casual today."

"Hey, I saw you naked. I thought you deserved a free show."

"Did you hear me complaining? What time is it?"

"About four, local time. What's on the program?"

"That's up to you. You know Paris better than I do, so you're calling the shots. Any idea if we're running too late for the Louvre?"

She frowned. "I don't know. Like I said before, I haven't been here in a while. Why don't we set that for tomorrow, just to be safe?"

"Makes sense. Okay then, we let you bankrupt me for a while, then we go eat. One hour?"

"I'll be ready in less than that."

He nodded. "Just let me shower and change."

As she showered, Rogue realized that she had undergone a shift in her perceptions of Will. One of the idiosyncrasies of the life which she chose to lead was that one often spent months, or sometimes even years, being acquainted with people whose real names you never knew, or never considered. She had worked beside, and against, Pietro Maximoff many times, for example, but she still thought of that name as the 'other' name of Quicksilver. She, of course, had, for her own reasons, gone by the name Rogue for almost as long as she could remember. Her life before that name was a dim memory, one that she had left behind her.

But the code names acted as a barrier, and the dropping of them in casual conversation was often considered, in the rather esoteric community that she and the other X-Men belonged to, a form of intimacy, a willingness to avoid pretense. When one thought of an individual by their real name first, it meant that you had bonded with them in a special way. It was a process, she remembered Kurt had once told her, similar to the _duzen_ process in German society, where one stopped using the formal mode of address and shifted to the familiar one. As she considered this, Rogue decided that she was glad that this had happened in her relationship with Will, and smiled.

Forty-five minutes later, they were walking the streets of Paris. Rogue was dressed in jeans and a blouse, since she was planning on wearing what she brought out of the store. Archetype was dressed in his usual grey tweed jacket and slacks, with a white turtleneck and a black vest, to which he had added a silver pocket watch. He had donned his hat as they left the hotel.

"Do you have anywhere particular in mind?" he asked her.

"Not really. I'll just look in the windows. If I see something that catches my eye, I'll go in."

"Let me see if I can find an English language local paper."

"I'll get it," she offered as they passed by a news stand. After she paid for the paper and handed it to him, she asked, "is that to read while you're waiting for me?"

"It's either this or twiddle my thumbs. I'm not built right for doing nothing. Does any of that clothing appeal to you?" he asked, gesturing at a nearby window.

She looked for a moment. The clothing was stylish, but not the ridiculously outrageous stuff that you saw on the runway floor. "It's got potential," she admitted. "Let's go in."

He opened the door for her as they entered. "Old-fashioned gentleman, remember?" he commented as she looked at him.

She enjoyed herself for an hour or so, but decided to stay conservative for the night, as he had mentioned that they might be visiting some of his businesses. She saw no reason to make Will undergo embarrassment among people whose respect was essential. She finally settled on a velour evening gown in a shade that matched the color of her hair, her black evening gloves, and a choker with a green stone. "Well?" she asked him. "How do I look?"

"Exquisite," he assured her. "Are you done?"

"I think I've done enough damage for one day. Let's get going."

He nodded and handed a credit card to the attendant. After he signed the receipt, they left and hailed a taxi. He gave their destination to the driver, and fifteen minutes later, they stepped out in front of the restaurant.

"'The Green Willow'?" Rogue asked, translating the sign in the front.

"An Irish reference that most people wouldn't get."

The restaurant was designed in an open manner, and a small fountain in the center bubbled pleasantly. Hanging plants and trellises of ivy gave the impression of being in a garden, and a large fireplace against one wall gave the place a homey feel.

"Will!" a beefy man in a white tuxedo cried. He was grinning, and embraced Will warmly. "How are you doing, you scoundrel?"

"I'm great, Robby. May," he said, looking at Rogue to indicate that he meant her, "This is Robert Brennan. He and I went to the Culinary Academy together. Robby, Miss May O'Hara."

"Charmed, Miss," he greeted her, shaking her gloved hand warmly. "My condolences that you have to be saddled with this old lump."

"Now don't start spreading tales, Robby," Will chided him.

"Oh, no Robby, do spread them, do!" she gushed. "I like him!" she told Will.

"You would. How's business, Robby?" Will asked.

"Fantastic! I've had to expand the kitchen somewhat, but other than that, it's been smooth as silk."

"How are the books?"

"We're up twenty percent over last year."

"When does the crowd come in?"

"Not for another two hours. Come on, sit down, both of you!" He guided them to a table.

"What's the special tonight?" Will asked.

"Duck l'orange with stuffing and double-baked potatoes."

"Sounds good to me."

"Me too," Rogue added.

"Just give me a few minutes to warm up some bread, and we'll get you started," Robby offered. "And yes, Will, I _know_, olive oil for you, not butter."

"I'm surprised you remember," Will said with a smile. "It has been three years, after all."

Robby shrugged. "You have a knack with money, I have a good memory."

"And a talent for cooking," Will pointed out. "Why do you think I hired you?"

"Because I have the blackmail photos. Back in a few." He walked off to the kitchen.

"Blackmail photos?" Rogue asked.

"They'll never prove it. The girl was a professional model, and we were doing an artistic rendering of the rites of Pan. That's not what makes it a scandalous photo, though. The details of the photo could ruin my culinary reputation."

"Why?" she asked, not believing a word.

"Because I'm eating a Quarter Pounder."

Robby waved Will's money aside as he tried to pay for the meal. "Forget it. I owe you enough favors over the years that I can spare you a free meal. How was it, by the way? I want your professional opinion."

"It was delicious, Robby. But I have to admit, it was a bit heavier than what I'm used to. The people I cook for now are all health nuts, so I make my meals a bit lighter."

Robby nodded. "I can see that. The French like their meals heavy. Just thank God we're not in Germany."

Will shuddered in mock horror. "By the way, how's Jean-Paul?"

"He finishes his dissertation this semester. I'll tell him you asked."

"Thanks. I'll give you a call in a few weeks. If you need anything, let Jeff know. Ready, May?"

"All set. Thanks for the meal, Robby. Good luck!"

"Thanks, miss. Keep this wretch out of trouble."

"I'll try. Who's Jean-Paul?" she asked after they had left.

"His lover. He's working on a sociology degree, as I recall."

"Oh."

"You took that a lot better than I expected. Most people would have done a double take, at least."

"That's right, you wouldn't know. My momma, Mystique, is bi."

"Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I guess that makes sense, in a way."

"What do you mean?"

"That's just my psychology background talking. I was just thinking. Most mutant abilities manifest themselves in adolescence, right?"

"Right."

"Well, what would the ability to be either male or female at will do to someone's sexual identity? Which way would they go, AC or DC? I think being bisexual would be the only rational choice that biology could give someone who was a shapeshifter."

Rogue thought about it for a moment. "I never thought about it that way. I'll avoid telling her that you said that."

"Why's that?"

She sighed. "Her lover, Destiny, died about two years ago. She's been a bit sensitive on the subject since, and if she heard that you'd said that, she might try to see just how effective your healing abilities are."

Rogue dragged him into the nearest dance club that she could find, and tried to get him to join her on the floor. "Come on! I want to see how well you can dance!" she told him over the din of the music.

"Rogue," he said falteringly, "I'm not very comfortable with this... I'd like to go back outside, please..." He was suddenly nervous, his eyes darting around the room, hesitant and wary.

"Oh, no," she replied, not noticing his distress in her enthusiasm. "I'm getting at least one dance out of you this trip!" She continued to drag him into the crowd, holding the sleeve of his jacket.

"I said _no_!" he half shouted, slipping out of his jacket and moving back outside as fast he could without actually pushing people out of the way.

Rogue looked at him for a moment, holding the jacket in one hand, then folded it over one arm and followed him.

She found him outside the club, leaning against the wall. He was breathing heavily, and his face was covered in sweat. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked him.

He regained his composure and looked at her. "Ororo is a claustrophobe, right?"

"Yeah. What does that have to do with you?"

"I'm an ocolophobe. Being in a crowd sends me into a panic attack."

"Oh."

"Add to that the fact that I get psychic backwash from all the people in there, and you can see why I was a little uncomfortable. I'm sorry. I should have warned you."

"That's okay. Are you all right?"

He nodded. "I just have to catch my breath. You wanted to dance, right?"

"Look, we don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable..."

"I've got a compromise."

They found a small pawnshop a few blocks away, where Will bought a portable stereo with a CD player. A quick trip to an all-night store produced a largish stack of CDs that they could agree upon. They hailed another taxi and returned to the hotel.

"Any preferences for the first album?" he asked her as they entered their suite.

"How about the 10,000 Maniacs one?" she suggested as she kicked off her shoes.

"Your wish is my command." He popped the disc into the player, then fiddled with the volume a bit. In a moment, "Noah's Dove" emanated from the speakers. "That too loud?"

"Actually, it's a little quiet. Your hearing _is_ sharp, isn't it?"

He nodded. "That's another reason I had to leave the club early. The sound was hurting my ears." He turned to her. "May I have the honor of this dance, miss?"

"Well, since you asked nicely..."

They were both wearing gloves, and the fact that Will was wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a high collar made Rogue a little daring, resting her head against his shoulder. "You smell good," she noted.

"Thank you. So do you. What's that perfume, by the way?"

"Erin Mist. I got it while we were in Dublin."

"They misnamed it. It should be called Criminal Assault."

"I take it you like it."

"You could say that."

They slow danced through Natalie Merchant's low voice. As the final notes of "I'm Not the Man" faded away, Rogue sighed.

"Do you want me to change the disc?" Will asked.

"No," she said softly. "Let's just stay like this for a while, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

Just how long they stood, there, silent, Rogue wasn't sure, but after a time, she stepped back from Will, looking at him with affection. "Thanks. You have no idea how much I needed that."

"No problem."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked him seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's sit down," she said. After they had planted themselves in the large couch, she looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments. "I hope I'm not about to insult you with what I'm about to ask."

"What's that?" he asked.

"As old-fashioned as the question seems, what are your intentions towards me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, _that's_ direct enough, isn't it?" He pursed his lips for a moment, lost in thought.

"I like you, Rogue," he said. "I like you a lot. I'm very glad that you came along. If I'd made this trip on my own, I probably would have just stayed in Ireland for a week, gone crazy from boredom, then headed back to New York, and would be in even worse shape than I was when I left. Being around you is good for me."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"You help me find a focus for my energy. Without a focus, I tend to be off in all directions at once, never settling down. I couldn't have asked for a more pleasant traveling companion.

"Would I be interested in making our relationship something more... intense? Yes, I would. That is, if you're not opposed," he added hastily.

"If you're asking me if I'm opposed to our becoming boyfriend and girlfriend," Rogue, said, trying to stifle a laugh, "then the answer's no. You really picked a roundabout way of getting there, though."

"Blame it on my literary background," he said, smiling. "I can say absolutely nothing in a hundred words or more."

They spent the next three days making the rounds of the usual Parisian landmarks, such as the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, and the Louvre. They also visited the Rodin Museum at Will's insistence. Rogue spent quite a bit of time looking at _The Kiss_. "You like this one?" Will asked her.

She nodded. "I've always liked this one. I've never been one for modern art, but this is an exception."

"Rodin worked in the period back when modern art was striving to mean something, before it went totally gaga. We'll get a folio on the way out."

"Thanks. What's next?"

"I think we'll settle our bill at the hotel and get going for Brussells. We really have been gone a while, and we ought to get back to the mansion."

"Yeah," she sighed, "you're right. Shouldn't we get some more souvenirs for the others?"

"Good idea. Any suggestions?"

"I don't know. Let's just window shop and see what we find."

After two or three hours, they decided that they had gathered enough trinkets to give the other X-Men, and went back to the hotel to pack and check out. "Can you ask the manager to call our bellhop over?" he asked as they descended to the lobby.

"Sure."

A few minutes later, the young man was hurrying to the front desk. "Yes, Madam?"

"We wanted to thank you for your excellent service," Rogue told him, as Will handed him a large tip.

"Thank you, sir!" he replied.

Will nodded, smiling, and he and Rogue went outside to hail a taxi to the airport.

They spent less than a day in Belgium. Most of their time was spent in confectionery shops, where Will spent ridiculous amounts of money on candy. "I give some of this to my business contacts," he explained.

"Thank God. We'd have to roll you around the mansion if you ate all of this."

"Be nice. Our flight back's in four hours. Would you rather see the town or get some rest?"

"Why don't we find a café and eat up? I'm not looking forward to more airline food."

"I can't argue with that. By the way, what do you want to tell the others when we get back?"

"About what?"

"Us."

"Let's just tell them the truth: that we've decided to become an item."

"Cyclops might have some problems with that," he pointed out. "He still doesn't trust me, you know."

"We'll deal with Scott when we get to him. Now let's go eat."

As they walked around, looking for a restaurant, Will stopped at a florist's street cart and purchased a white rose, which he handed to Rogue. "For you, my dear," he said with a florid bow as he handed it to her, "because I like you." Rogue just smiled and took it with a curtsey, bringing it to her nose and holding it close to her face.

"Could you get me a pillow again?" Rogue asked as they boarded the plane.

"Sure. You going to sleep all the way back?"

"I just might. I want to shift my body clock back to New York time. How about you?"

"I'll just read. I'll sleep when we get back home."

"I was wondering when you'd slip up," she said, smiling.

"Excuse me?"

"You just called the mansion 'home'. You really are one of us now."

He smiled slowly. "I guess I am now, aren't I? Get to sleep, beautiful. I'll wake you when we're there."

Rogue closed her eyes and nodded off, still smiling.

A few hours later, she moved in her sleep, resting her head against Will's shoulder. He looked at her, smiled, closed his book, and turned off the light.


	17. Chapter 17

"Should we call the mansion and let them know that we're back?" Rogue asked after they had finished going through customs.

"Good idea. The last thing we need is Bishop coming out blasting when we show up in the foyer." He dug into his pocket. "A dollar in quarters should cover the call, right?"

"Right." A minute later, she was talking to Warren. _"You two sure you don't want a ride?" _he asked.

"We'll be teleporting over in a few minutes," she assured him. "We just wanted to give you some advance notice."

"_Okay. Hank just finished making lunch. We'll put out places for you two."_

"Thanks. See you in a few. They're ready for us," she told Will as she hung up the phone.

"Good." He hefted his bags. "Let's go that way," he said, inclining his head. "It looks relatively deserted."

Rogue picked up her things and followed him. She wasn't quite sure when it happened, but as they continued to walk, the airport faded away, to be replaced by the mansion, directly in front of them.

The door opened as they approached, and Ororo came out to greet them. "Welcome back!" she said warmly.

"It's good to be back," Will said.

After a few minutes of saying hi to everyone, they sat down for lunch. Hank had made a Caesar salad and sandwiches, but Will and Rogue spent most of the meal fielding questions about the trip.

"Enough of the sights," Bobby said, "get to the important part."

"What's that?" Will asked.

"What did you bring me?"

"Just for that, you go to the end of the souvenir line."

"Drat."

"Did Moria examine you while you were at Muir?" Hank asked him.

"Yes. She said I was fine."

"I'd still like to do a battery of tests on you."

"Yeesss, maaster," Will replied in a Peter Lorre voice.

"Do you feel any different after your experience?" Xavier asked him.

Will thought about it for a moment. "Yes I do, but I honestly can't pinpoint just why I do. Maybe Hank can find something."

"Anything exciting happen around here?" Rogue asked.

"Not really," Logan replied. "It's been pretty quiet."

"Good. It's going to take me a day or two to get my mind back to thinking about work." She looked at Will. "Show them your arms."

"All right." He stood up and rolled his sleeves back.

Logan got up and examined the dragons closely, then whistled. "Whoever did that sure knew their stuff."

"I'll tell the Sidhe you said that. I'm sure they'll be flattered."

"Are they the ones who did that?" Ororo asked.

He shook his head. "No. They acted as intermediaries for something far older. Well," he said, "enough of 'What's My Mysterious Power?'. Let's distribute the loot."

Rogue decided that Will must have brought most of the souvenirs while she was doing her shopping. He gave Xavier a pair of Corinthian leather gloves, and Henry a silk tie. "I decided that something blue would be a safe bet," he told him.

"Good move," Henry replied.

Logan got a wooden box, about a foot long. "I found this in a Dublin antique shop," Will said. "I can date it later, if you want."

Logan opened the box and unwrapped the contents. "This is a _tanto_!" he exclaimed.

"Yes. I knew about your fascination with things Japanese, so it seemed appropriate. From what the dealer told me, the seller had an ancestor who was on one of the first successful voyages of the British Navy to Japan."

"That would make this thing about two hundred years old."

"That's about right," Will agreed.

Warren was given a set of three linen shirts. "Interest for the one I owed you," Will explained.

Ororo received a set of silver bracelets. "I thought that they might go well with your uniform," Will suggested.

"They're lovely," Ororo responded. She looked at the bracelets closely. "The workmanship is exquisite."

Betsy received a necklace, inset with amethyst. "It was the only purple thing I could find."

Bishop got a large dagger, with steel that was a dark blue and veined with small ridges. "Damascus steel," Will explained. "Stronger than anything machine-made. Well," he said as he stood up, "that should be everything."

"_Hey_!" Bobby yelled.

"Just kidding," Will replied with a smile as he snapped his fingers. A leather jacket appeared in Bobby's lap. "I had to estimate your size."

"What about Scott and Jean?" Logan asked.

"I got them a clock for their house. Where are they, by the way?"

"They went shopping," Betsy offered.

"Ah. Do you want to let them know? I'm going to dump my laundry down the chute, then get some sleep."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Rogue asked him.

"Hm? Oh, I forgot the _girl_!" he said, slapping his head.

"Who are you, Ted Kennedy?" Hank asked.

"Do you want to tell them, or should I?" he asked Rogue.

"I'll do it. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce that, for the time being at least, Mister Riley and I are an item."

There were a few raised eyebrows at that. Bobby looked at Henry, then held out his hand. "Pay up, Hankster."

Will and Rogue looked at each other, then at Bobby and Hank. "Do you mean to tell me that you two were betting on whether or not we would start going out together?"

"Of course not!" Bobby said, indignant. "What kind of people do we think we are?"

"We were betting on _when,_" Henry supplied.

"One more question," Rogue asked. "Do we get a cut?"

"Well?" Ororo asked Rogue.

"Well what?"

"What is he like?"

Rogue was silent for a moment. "Ororo, are you asking me as leader of the X-Men, or as a friend?"

"You can give me two answers, if you're more comfortable with that."

"Okay. My professional opinion: He's impulsive, capricious, cynical, and unpredictable. He tends to be aloof, not so much because he's uncaring as because he's listening to something only he can hear. He didn't do any physical exercise that I saw, but that may be because Hank had told him to take it easy, instead of any kind of neglect. He enjoys pulling the occasional con, as long as he's pretty sure that no one will get hurt. He has no problem throwing his weight around if he takes offense to something."

Ororo nodded. "Very good. Now tell me as a friend."

Rogue smiled. "Ororo, he's gentle, kind... almost doting. He goes out of his way to make you feel comfortable, and enjoys springing pleasant surprises on you. He's willing to compromise, and doesn't insist on always getting his way. He showers you with compliments, but they're not phony. He goes out of his way to help his friends if they need it, but he doesn't look over their shoulders while he's doing it. He has a sense of humor, although it's a little twisted. He has a great deal of respect for people who do grunt work, and goes out of his way to show it."

Ororo smiled in return. "It seems you're quite smitten with him."

"I am," she admitted. "The weird thing about it is, I've been reviewing what we did during the trip in my mind, and I can't find a single instance where he wasn't just being himself. He may play a role once in a while, but it's one that's a part of the con game, and he doesn't play it with friends."

"Well, we should find out more in the next few weeks," Ororo said, standing up. "Do you think he's asleep yet?"

She nodded. "As long as he's lying down, he falls asleep instantly."

"I'll talk to him later, then."

"There are two other things you should know, Ororo - and they're for you personally, not as an X-Man."

"Really? What are they?"

"He's an ocolophobe. It's sort of like having claustrophobia in crowds."

Ororo frowned. "We'll have to look out for that. What else?"

"You might want to have a nice long religious discussion with him. In his own words, he serves the Goddess."

Ororo's eyebrows shot up at that. "I certainly will have to talk with him. Thank you for letting me know."

"No problem. Did Kurt send you guys any information on what happened?"

"Standard mission logs. Nothing out of the ordinary. We'll need some input from you."

"On that particular event, or the whole trip?"

"Just on what happened at Glastonbury. Whatever happened between the two of you is your own business."

"Thanks."

Logan took charge of dinner that night, over Will's objections. "You're still on vacation until Hank gives you his OK," Logan said firmly.

Will fumed at that for a few moments. "Doctor McCoy?"

"Yes?"

"Can you fit in a physical for me tonight? I'd like to get back to work."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Should I just make it a general physical, Charles?"

"I'd add a strength test and a treadmill run, just to be safe."

"Right. Meet me in medlab at eight, Will."

"Ninety miles an hour," Henry said in wonder, "and he isn't even winded."

"He hasn't flatlined either," Xavier added. "All right, Archetype," he said into the microphone, "that's enough for now."

Will slowed down gradually, then stopped. "Okay, what next?"

"Let's try a strength test. I'll set up the weights." Henry tapped at the keyboard for a moment, and a weight bench appeared, with a hydraulic bar crossing above it. "Do you feel up to this, Will?"

"All set," he replied as he got under the bar and got a grip. "How much weight are we starting with?"

"I'd prefer not to tell you. It might hinder your performance."

"Sensible. Say when."

Henry and Xavier looked at each other for a moment, and Henry set the weight for 75 kilos. "Logan said that was pretty much his upper limit during his daily training," Henry informed Xavier.

Xavier nodded. "All right, you can start, Archetype."

"Okay, here goes." Will took a deep breath and pushed.

The bar rose smoothly, and impossibly fast.

"All right, guys," Will said, "enough with the joking. I know I'm scrawny, but giving me some weight besides the bar might be useful."

Henry and Xavier looked at one another. "Okay," Henry said as casually as he could, "just kidding. We'll be adding weight slowly and progressively. Let us know when it gets to be too much."

"I promise to cry uncle."

"He benched how much?" Logan asked.

"Three hundred kilos," Henry replied. "He leg pressed five."

"And he had no idea he was doing it?" Scott asked.

"None. He wasn't even exerting himself until the last few reps."

"Have you told him?"

"Not yet."

"You should, Hank," Jean supplied. "We don't want him destroying something because he doesn't know his own strength."

"Good point. That brings up a question: do we want him training with the team again yet, given his new abilities?"

"I say yes," Logan replied. "Let's face it, we've been facing some pretty heavy hitters lately. An extra powerhouse, even one who hasn't been tested to his limit yet, would be a big help."

"I'm inclined to agree," Jean added.

"So am I," Ororo supplied, "as long as we continue to test him in training."

"Scott?" Xavier asked.

Scott was quiet for a moment. "You all know my feelings about him. I think we're jumping the gun, considering that the man's technically still on his probation period."

"You're not counting his recovery time?" Warren asked.

"I'll admit that it gave us some insight into his personality, but we still don't know much about his capabilities. If you're all willing to admit him, though, I'll go along."

"All right, it's settled then," Xavier said. "Who wants to be the one to get him?"

"I'll do it," Jean volunteered.

"_Archetype, would you and Rogue come down to the War Room, please?"_

"We'll be down in a minute, Jean," Rogue said, flicking on the intercom. "Is there a problem?"

"_Something needs to be taken care of. Is Bishop with you?"_

"Right here, Phoenix. Should I come along?"

"_You may want to be here_."

They all looked at one another, shrugged, and walked to the elevator.

"Any ideas?" Will asked as they descended.

"The Professor likes to lay it on mysterious every once in a while," Rogue told him. "You get used to it."

As they stepped off the elevator, they were surprised to find that the lights were out. With the exception of the computer consoles, the room was completely dark.

"Where is everybody?" Rogue asked.

"They're all sitting at the table," Will supplied.

"Well," Warren said, "so much for the element of surprise."

The lights came on to reveal all of the other X-Men, sitting at their accustomed places at the conference table.

"What's the deal?" Rogue asked.

Jean stood up. "Will, would you come here a moment?"

"Over the years, the X-Men have tried to avoid becoming a militant group, but we've taken a few customs from the military when they seemed appropriate. One of those customs is for someone who's been promoted to receive their rank insignia from the most senior officer. Since I was the first X-Man, that task falls to me." She took a large box from the table and opened it, removing the standard blue and gold uniform of the X-Men. "We don't require you to wear this, obviously, but it does have some symbolic value for us," she told him.

Will said nothing, but took the uniform gently in his hands, looking at it for a moment. "I'll be right back," he said shortly, in a subdued voice. He walked out of the room.

"What was that about?" Bobby asked.

"Oh, come on, Bobby," Warren said. "He's doing what we all did when we first got our uniforms. He's trying it on."

"Wouldn't his room be more appropriate for that?"

"Not if he's going to modify it," Betsy pointed out.

They chatted together for a few minutes. Jean, Betsy, and Xavier quieted down suddenly, however, and turned their attention to the direction that Will had just gone. "Did you feel that?" Xavier asked, looking at Jean.

Jean nodded. "What did it feel like to you?"

Xavier thought about it a moment. "Like two pieces of a puzzle came together."

"I agree," Betsy said.

About a minute later, they heard , and saw, Archetype return.

The only piece of the standard uniform which he wore was the belt. He had made modifications to his own costume design, though, which echoed the 'X' motif. He had changed his shirt to a standard grey denim dress shirt, and had added a bolo tie with an 'X' logo for the clasp. A similar logo adorned the band of his fedora. He had replaced the overshirt that he had worn with a black vest.

"Well?" he said, his eyes glowing slightly. "Do I pass muster?"

Logan studied him for a while, looking him up and down, then nodded. "I _like_ it."

"So do I," Ororo added. "It's a little dark, but a very impressive design."

"Let me be the first to say it then," Xavier announced. "Archetype... welcome to the X-Men."


	18. Chapter 18

"_Okay, guys,"_ Bobby said over the Danger Room microphone_, "the object of this scenario is to rescue everybody's favorite animatronic demographic unit, the Mannequinov family."_

"The what?" Will asked.

"It's a running joke," Logan informed him.

"What kind of trouble did they get into this time, Bobby?" Warren asked.

"_Well..."_ the Danger Room darkened for a moment, and their surroundings became a cityscape, lit by twilight. A row of townhouses towered above them, and the lights in most of them were out._ "Little Svetlana is growing up, and is outgrowing the vices of youth. She's taken up a new hobby."_

As Bobby spoke, an orange light started to glow from the top floor of one of the townhouses. _"That's right, everybody,"_ Bobby continued,_ "Svetlana is now smoking in bed!"_

"Why, that little tramp!" Warren exclaimed.

"Angel, see if you can spot anyone from the roof," Ororo said in a commanding tone. "I will start a small rainstorm over the building. Archetype, teleport Wolverine and yourself inside the building."

"I wish I could oblige, Storm, but I can't do that."

"What?" Storm asked. "Why not?"

"I'd explain, but we don't have time. Just trust me. I can't teleport us up there."

"We're in trouble," Warren said.

"Oh, we can work around it," Will assured him. "I'll get them out."

"How?" Logan asked.

"I'll just walk in and get them."

"Those aren't illusions, Archetype," Ororo snapped. "Those flames _will_ burn you."

"Yes, they will," he confirmed. "Would you be so kind as to drench me, Storm?"

Ororo, Logan, and Warren looked at one another. Logan shrugged. "Let's play along, 'Roro. He's got me interested."

Ororo looked above Will for a moment, and a small rain cloud appeared over his head. A moment later, he was rained upon with a virtual sheet of water.

"Thank you," he told Ororo, as he dripped upon the 'ground'. "Keep an eye on the third floor." He walked directly into the flames of the building.

"Bobby," Ororo said as he entered, "keep an eye on his vital signs."

"_Right."_ A moment later, he continued: _"His vitals have sped up. He must be in overdrive."_

"Avoiding the flames by being too fast for them," Ororo realized. "Ingenious."

"_He's on the third floor now. Now back on the second."_

A few seconds later, one of the windows shattered as a chair flew through it. Will stood at the center of the resulting hole, flanked by the automatons representing the family.

"How will you get them down?" Logan yelled up to him.

Will grimaced for a moment, then glanced around him, scanning the burning room. "There's nothing here that I can use as a rope or ladder. Angel, can you haul them down?"

"I'll be right up." A moment later, he was picking up the first of the robots. "How are you getting down?" he asked Will on the next trip up.

"The simplest way of all," was the reply. "I'll wait 'till after you're done."

Warren was able to take down both of the 'children' in one trip, since they were somewhat smaller than the other robots. "What about him?" Logan asked as he landed.

"He said he'd take care of himself," Warren replied.

"How will you get down?" Ororo yelled up to Will.

Will simply shrugged, and stepped off the edge of the building.

He hit the ground a moment later, was still for a few moments, then got up with a groan. "_That's_ gonna hurt in the morning."

"_Uh... simulation over_," Bobby said. "_Report to debriefing_."

"What was the idea with jumping?" Bobby asked Will a few minutes later. "Ororo could have floated you down on a gust of wind."

"Not without fanning the flames, she couldn't," he disagreed.

"Why didn't you just let me carry you down?" Warren asked.

"The flames were getting too intense. I could see that you were flinching from the heat as you picked up the last two victims."

"Would you pull that stunt in combat?" Logan asked.

"That particular situation wouldn't exist in a combat scenario. The only reason that I didn't just teleport everyone down was that the distance that I was moving subjectively was not the same as objective reality."

"Here we go again," Bobby groaned. "His explanations always give me a headache."

"Try meditating. What you see in the Danger Room is a very good illusion, but it's still an illusion - at least while you're using holograms that give a deceptive idea of distance. If I had teleported the two of us the fifty feet straight up that that distance _appears_ to be, I'd actually be sending us into a solid wall, and we'd both be dead. I can see past the illusions that this room creates, and I can't resolve the differences between illusion and reality in my mind."

"Why didn't you mention this during your session with Rogue?"

"Because the dimensions during that sequence weren't altered. The distances between us stayed the same."

"We hadn't counted on this," Warren told Ororo in a worried tone.

"I have a possible solution," Ororo suggested, looking at Will. "When we have a scenario that involves you, we will simply keep subjective distances the same as those in the Danger Room."

"That could limit us," Warren observed.

"Not really," Bobby disagreed. "We can use some old programs, back from the days before we used Shiar technology."

"That could work," Warren conceded. "We can do some sessions outside once in a while, too. We haven't done that in a while, and I sort of miss it."

"So do I," Ororo admitted.

Logan stood up. "Me and the rookie have to get goin', 'Roro. We've got a hand-to-hand combat test today."

About an hour later, Xavier and Henry were interrupted from their security updates when the door opened suddenly. "Charles, you should come to the gymnasium... _now_."

"What is it, Ororo?" Xavier asked, concerned.

"The training session between Archetype and Wolverine has escalated."

"How so?"

"It's turned into a brawl."

As Logan ducked yet another swing from Archetype, he tried to figure out exactly when things had gotten out of hand.

The session had started smoothly enough, with Will following Logan's lead through several katas. Will started out uncertainly, lagging behind Logan by a few seconds as he watched the details of the martial dance. As the cycle of the kata progressed, however, Will caught up with Logan, his motions becoming smoother and more precise in the process. By the end of the kata, he was moving with complete balance and poise, his eyes closed and his face impassive.

"Not bad," Logan complimented him.

"Thanks. I've been practicing."

"When have you had the time?"

"Oh no," he replied, tapping the side of his head, "I've been practicing up here."

Logan couldn't think of any reply for that, so he gestured for Will to take up his place on the mat. "Today's your qualifier," he informed him. "If I think you're good enough to pass, then you'll qualify for missions where things are likely to get rough."

"As opposed to your usual missions, where you toss a coin and the loser goes home, right?"

"Don't be a smartass. You're on offense."

Logan took a defensive stance, watching Will closely. The man had been full of surprises the past few days, combining techniques from a dozen different styles. Logan, who was one of the best hand-to-hand combatants in the world, had to admit to himself that he was impressed with the man.

"Will I be on offense through the whole match?" Will asked.

"We'll be switching off. Your move, rookie."

Archetype didn't move. "Wouldn't it make more sense for us to be in uniform?"

"We'll move on to that later. Are you stalling?"

"Not at all." He bowed deeply, and Logan, through a reflex born of years of exposure to Japanese culture, bowed back, lowering his head as Will had done.

Which prevented him from seeing Will, who continued the bow, rolled forward, and hit him square in the face with both feet.

Logan staggered back slightly, allowing Will to get back on his feet. Logan shook his head slightly, clearing it. "Not bad," he said again, as he dropped to one knee and struck, aiming for Will's midsection.

Will twisted, following Logan's punch, spun around, and drove his elbow into Logan's left shoulder, following up with a drum punch to the side of his head.

Logan hit the mat, stunned, but got up a moment later. "That's it," he warned. "The kid gloves are off."

Will smiled coldly in return. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

They both became a blur of motion for the next few minutes. Logan, who wasn't fighting at anything approaching his maximum ability, used the opportunity to study Will's style. He recognized elements from tae kwan do, savate, and drunken boxing at various points in the match. But while Will was able to perform the motions, he seemed to have no spirit behind them. He wasn't centered, as he was during the kata, but disjointed and erratic.

_Okay, _Logan thought to himself,_ I know how good he is when he's calm. What happens if I piss him off?_

_Let's find out. _

When Will came in for his next strike, Logan parried him easily, sending him to the mat with a three-part combination to the face and jaw.

"Enough games," he told Will, who spat blood as he stood back up. "Time for today's lessons. Lesson one," he said as he punched Will in the abdomen, driving the air out of his lungs and causing him to double over, "you're the student, I'm the teacher. Lesson two," he continued as he sent Will sprawling to the mat with a roundhouse kick, "_don't mess with teacher_."

Will lay on the floor for a moment, unmoving, and Logan became impatient. "Come on, get up. I didn't hurt you that bad."

Will got up, facing away from Logan, and slowly turned around. His eyes were glowing brightly; his face, however, was like stone. He took a defensive stance, but Logan saw an opening and took it.

Archetype ducked the kick easily, responding with a combination of blows to Logan's abdomen and chest, and finishing with a punch to the side of his head.

Logan got up instantly. He had rolled with the final punch, and wasn't as dazed as he had been the previous time. "All right, rookie," he growled, "let's dance."

Over the next few minutes, Archetype did something that few people in the world were capable of: he made Wolverine break a sweat. They didn't let up, each landing blows which stunned the other. Strangely, neither of them showed any signs of fatigue. Logan knew that his healing factor kept fatigue toxins from accumulating in his bloodstream, but Archetype seemed to actually get better as they went along.

Their fight could likely have continued for several hours if Xavier and Ororo had not intervened. "That is _enough_, gentlemen!" Ororo said in her command voice.

"Tell it to _him_, 'Roro!" Logan shot back, as he ducked a blow which powdered the concrete wall behind him.

"Charles, can you do anything?" Ororo said, her face concerned. "If Scott sees this, Archetype will never gain his trust."

"I agree." Xavier replied. _Archetype!_ he projected. _Stop this at once!_

The response that he got was an incoherent jumble of images and emotions. He 'saw' a trench filled with the dead bodies of soldiers holding rifles and combat knives. The view shimmered, to be replaced by endless columns of soldiers carrying spears and large rectangular shields, marching in perfect cadence underneath a stone arch. The image shifted again, becoming a samurai slashing his way through a forest of enemies single-handedly.

"I can't get through," he finally said in exasperation.

"Then we do it my way," Ororo said grimly. She raised her hands, her eyes went completely white, and a lightning bolt hit Archetype, stunning him for a moment.

Will turned slowly and looked Ororo up and down. "Oh, _puh-leez_," he asked in an amused voice, his eyes dimming, "did you actually think that would hurt me?"

"Well," Ororo said, somewhat defensively, "I thought it was worth the try."

"You get points for effort," he assured her. "Well, coach," he asked Logan, "do I get pass muster?"

"Yeah, you pass," Logan told him grudgingly. "He's qualified for field work, Chuck."

Xavier nodded. "Warren will brief you on the Blackbirds this afternoon," he told Will. "Now hit the showers, both of you."

"Yes, _sir_," Will said, flicking Xavier a two-finger salute.

"And I want to talk to you after lunch," Xavier told him.

Will blinked. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not yet, but you're working on it."

Will rubbed his jaw as he opened his locker. "You throw a mean right, you know that?" he asked Logan.

Logan shrugged. "I've had plenty of practice." He looked at Will's hand, which was rapidly swelling up. "You okay?"

"I broke it on that last punch. It'll heal up in about half an hour," he replied as he took off his clothes with his left hand.

"Sure you don't want Hank to look at it?"

"Nah. There aren't any open wounds, so I should be fine." He grabbed a towel and went into the showers.

"You know, between your tattoos, your hair, and those scars, you aren't exactly going to get any undercover work."

"This from the walking Brillo pad? I've had cats that had less body hair than you do."

"Don't get cute," Logan said as he followed Will into the showers. "Can you tell me something?"

"What?"

"What happened to you back there?"

Will leaned against the tile for a minute. "Has Rogue told you guys any of what happened to me in Ireland?"

"Not much."

"Can you take what I'm about to tell you on faith?"

"Sure," Logan shrugged.

"I told Rogue about an experience that I call the Chorus. Well, the Chorus is sort of like my own personal soundtrack."

"You'd better run that by me again."

"Remember when I told you that I can see trends that lead to the future?"

"Yeah."

"I don't see them as much as hear and feel them. The different variables that affect the future manifest themselves to me as notes of music. By listening to the tune, I can make an educated guess as to what the next movement is going to be. Sometimes, though, the Chorus becomes so loud that all I can do is just follow it along for a while. That's what happened when you clocked me."

"So you weren't fighting me, as much as you were going along with the song."

"Right. I don't think I would have hurt you, but I was doing my best to take you down."

"If you'd been fighting anybody but Rogue or me, you would've done it."

"That's good to know. At least now I know I can hold my own."

"By the way, I added a laser sight to your pistol. It's small enough to not be a problem, but with your aim, I think you'll need it."

"Thanks," Archetype replied dryly. "Is it a standard laser sight?"

"Yeah, nothing fancy about it."

"I've got an idea. Think Beast could fiddle with it a little?"

"And do what?"

"Well, I was thinking that the beam could give us away. Since my vision extends into the infrared, why not give me a laser sight that puts out an infrared beam?"

Logan blinked, then grinned. "I _like_ it!"

"Thanks. Well," he said, wincing a bit as he wiggled his broken hand, "I'd better go catch up with Angel. See you at dinner."

"Okay, I thought it would make more sense for us to start from the back and work our way forward, since it'll be a while before you do any pilot training."

"If ever. I'm still not sure that your systems are shielded as well as you think," Will told Warren.

"We'll see. This is Blackbird Gold, our new plane. Forge designed and built her, and shows up every once in a while to patch her up and do tests."

"I notice she's a forward-swept wing design. How does she handle below Mach 1?"

"The stabilizers are a custom design. She's smooth as silk."

"And top speed?"

"Both Blackbirds can do Mach 3. In emergencies, Mach 4."

"Rogue had mentioned that this one has V-TOL capability."

"That's right. Let's go inside." They climbed the ladder that led into the belly of the plane. "Offensive and defensive systems are on your right."

"You carry offensive weapons?" Will asked with some surprise. "I thought you considered yourselves a defensive unit."

"We do, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Most of our offensive systems are anti-aircraft missiles, but we have a few mutant-specific systems."

"Dampening units?" Will guessed.

Warren nodded. "The effect's sort of like a concussion grenade. Hank came up with the idea during our days in X-Factor."

"Where would I sit?"

"Over here," Warren said, pointing to a row of seats across from the Electronic Countermeasures station. "We listened to your suggestion, and placed you away from as many critical systems as we could."

"Good. What's the other plane like?"

"Inside, the configuration's pretty much the same. Outside, just picture a _really_ big SR-71."

"How did Xavier swing that?"

"He has a lot of contacts that he doesn't let _anybody_ know about - not even the senior team members."

"Makes sense. What you don't know, you can't reveal."

"Jean used to tell me about people who come and talk with Charles in the middle of the night, then leave before daylight. We've never asked him, but we think that Charles may have had connections with "Kelly" Johnson, the man who designed the SR-71, and hired him to design a larger plane."

"I'm sure the fact that Xavier is Old Money helped."

"I know it did. I've used some of those Old Money connections myself, and Emma Frost is the embodiment of the Old Money mentality."

"I haven't had time to really get any connections started," Will mused. "Maybe I should start planning that in."

"I still show up at the occasional dinner party. I'll wrangle invitations for you and Rogue one of these days."

"I'd appreciate it. Time for lunch," he said, glancing at his watch.

"Let's get going, then. By the way, I heard your workout with Logan got a bit intense."

"I have the feeling that Xavier is going to rake me over the coals for that." Will said ruefully.

"How's the hand?" Logan asked as Will and Warren entered the kitchen and sat down.

"Good as new," Archetype replied.

"I heard you gave Wolvie a run for his money," Rogue told him.

"If he'd gotten any nastier, I would've popped my claws," Logan confirmed.

"You gave him the Blackbird tour, Warren?" Xavier asked.

Warren nodded. "He's got the basics down. We'll go into more detail later."

"After your conference with me, Will, you have perimeter security detail."

"Lunch is ready," Ororo said, as she and Bobby brought over two large bowls, one containing spaghetti and the other, sauce, meatballs, and sausage. She then looked at the table, frowning. "I forgot something."

"We left the bread on the counter," Bobby supplied.

"I've got it," Will said, glancing at the counter. His eyes flashed, and the basket of bread appeared on the table.

"Thanks," Bobby said, sitting down.

"Is perimeter detail done in or out of uniform?" Will asked.

"With the exception of Bishop, we do it in civilian clothing," Ororo told him. "It reduces the risk of having to answer difficult questions if someone sees us from the road.."

"Any off-limits places that I should know about?"

"Devil's Rock, near the west end of the gardens," Xavier informed him. "I'll explain why later."

"I just walk along the perimeter and look for anything unusual?"

"Just let out a psychic 'yell' if you encounter anything. I think that would be more dependable than a communicator in your case."

"Don't be a hero, in other words."

"Exactly."

"I can live with that."

"Why didn't you tell us that you could do that?" Xavier demanded as Will entered his study.

"Why hello, Xavier, I'm doing quite well, and yourself?" was the response.

"Just answer the question, Will," Jean said in a weary voice.

"Because I didn't know that I could," he snapped irritably. "You all seem to think that I have an idea of how my powers work. I hate to disillusion you, but I don't know much more than you do."

"Can you at least tell us what happened, from your point of view?" Ororo asked.

"All right," he said tiredly as he sank into a chair. "This is the best I can give you in the way of an explanation.

"I don't dream the same way as I did before my accident. I used to just have normal dreams, dealing with my life and imagination."

"That doesn't happen anymore?" Jean asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Now, all my dreams have some sort of meaning, or agenda, behind them." He glanced at Xavier. "You want to know how I was able to hold my own with Wolverine? Ever since I started training with you guys, I've been having dreams about war. Do you know what lucid dreaming is?"

"Yes. It's a state where the dreamer is aware that he or she is dreaming, and is able to affect the outcome of the dream."

"Almost _all_ of my dreams are lucid dreams. Lately, they've been taking one of two forms. In one, I'm somewhere in the Far East - I have a feeling that it's not a real place, but instead, a synthesis of various places in the world. I've been getting my brains beaten out pretty regularly by an old master who appears to be about ninety years older than God. When I wake up, I usually remember what I've learned during the night. That's how I was able to do so well against Wolverine."

"What's the other kind of dream?" Jean asked.

"I'm sitting at a desk in a massive tower. It's circular, and the desk, and me, are floating in midair. The tower is nothing but books. There's no entrance, and the tower goes down, and up, as far as I can see. I can travel to any place within the tower, pick up any book, and find the knowledge that I need to solve whatever problem that I have. I know, Xavier, beyond a doubt, that all the knowledge within the collective consciousness is contained in that library. I also know that, given enough time, I can learn _all_ that information."

"So that's how you view the collective consciousness?" Xavier asked. "As a gigantic library?"

"More like the ultimate multimedia experience. Maybe an example would help. Let's say I want to learn about architecture. I think about architecture and start floating up or down to a specific area of the library. When I get to a certain point, I find that a certain book is glowing. I take the book off the shelf and open it. I sort of dive into the book, and someone that I know has something to do with architecture - let's say Frank Lloyd Wright - is standing next to me. He starts instructing me in the basics of architecture, and let's me know how I'm doing. Time really doesn't really mean anything to me while I'm dreaming, so I can learn as much as I want to until I decide to take a break."

"Do you ever know how far along you are in your studies?" Ororo asked.

"My instruction is usually chronological in order, so I can usually make a good guess. I can leave a bookmark in the book when I leave, so I can go back later to where I left off." Archetype looked at his watch. "I'd better get outside. My watch starts in ten minutes."

"How will you be proceeding?" Ororo asked.

"I'm just going to run the perimeter. I'll compress distance when I'm visible from the road, so that no one sees me."

Xavier nodded. "Let someone know if you run into trouble. We'll signal you when your watch is over."

See you later, then." He got up and started walking towards the door.

"By the way," Xavier said, "Jean, Betsy, and I will be testing your psychic defenses while you're out there. Just do your best to get us out of your head."

"Right." Will shut the door behind him as he left.

"Opinions?" Xavier asked Jean and Ororo.

"He was telling us the truth," Jean said. "Nobody could make up something like that and expect to be taken seriously."

"You realize, of course, that he has the potential to become one of the most intelligent people in history," Ororo put in. "Immortality and ultimate intellectual access - I'm starting to decide that Valerie was right, Charles."

"So am I," Xavier admitted.

"When do you want to hit him?" Jean asked.

"Let's try at about two-thirty. You'd better let Betsy know."

Will went up to his room, changed into hiking boots, jeans, and a black shirt. He put on his wrist sheath and slipped another knife into one of his boots, then went outside and started jogging towards the front gate. Once he reached the gate, he turned to the left and headed towards the southwest corner of the estate.

Once he was out of sight from the road, he increased his speed, keeping himself down to about five miles an hour, a speed that was just slow enough to be taken as a wind sprint if seen in a glance. The terrain started to pass by at a more acceptable pace, and soon he reached the edge of Breakstone Lake. As he turned towards Spuyten Dyvil Cove, he decided not to walk on Jean and Cyclops' property without their permission. He slowed down, concentrated, and teleported to the other side of the cove. He then continued skirting the edge of the small mountain which housed the Blackbirds and their runway, heading back towards Graymalkin Lane. He slowed down again when he got within visual range of the road. Once he was hidden behind the wall, he stopped for a moment to do a visual sweep of the area.

A few moments later, he dropped to his knees as the worst migraine headache of his life hit him like a hammer. He glared up, where he could see the astral forms of Xavier, Betsy, and Jean looking down at him. "You're doing this, aren't you?" he spat.

_This is only a minor attack,_ Xavier's voice said inside his mind._ What will you do if there's a major telepath going up against you?_

"Oh, I don't know," he growled, "how about this?"

_GET OUT OF MY MIND!_

The force of that one thought was like a cannon shot, snapping the three telepaths out of their concentration. They all caught the image of an immense tower, windowless and impregnable, and heard a door slam shut as they were hurled back. An instant later, they all found themselves back in their bodies.

"How... did he do that?" Betsy gasped.

"A pure, undifferentiated psychic wave," Xavier said clinically, "then a solid mindshield. I have to admit, it's a solid combination."

"What's he doing now?" Jean asked.

Betsy looked out the window. "He's back on his patrol."

"Well, I think that we can now put psionically attacking him on our list of dumb things to do."

"Make sure to underline it."


	19. Chapter 19

"Get up," Rogue said to Will, pulling a pillow off his head.

He squinted his eyes against the morning light. "Have you no respect for the dead?" he groaned.

"Yeah, but since you can't die, the question's irrelevant."

"Ha, ha." He glanced at the clock, squinting blearily, then back at her. "And why, pray tell, have you woken me at six A.M. on a Saturday morning?"

"I'm keeping a promise I made to you."

He thought about that a moment. "Okay, I give up. What promise was that?"

"Today, you learn how to drive. Don't worry," she assured him, seeing the apprehension on his face, "we'll be staying on the mansion grounds, so there won't be any other cars. Nothing can go wrong."

"Well?" Bobby asked Henry. "What do you think?"

"_I_ can't figure it out. Warren?"

"Well, Jean said that she didn't do it, and Ororo didn't even know about it." He looked around. "I don't see any angles of approach that would do it either."

As Warren finished speaking, Jean approached them. "Well, _there's_ a first," she commented. "I wonder what their explanation is."

"How am I going to explain this?" Rogue said to herself, burying her face in her hands.

"Look," Will said apologetically, "I'm really sorry about this."

"It's not really your fault," she replied. "I guess what you did made sense, in a way."

"Well, I didn't want to kill the deer or damage the car..."

"And you couldn't teleport the deer without killing it..."

"Right..."

"And you told me that, when you panic, you teleport straight up."

"Exactly." He looked out the window of the car. "How long do you think it's going to take them to get us down?"

"Bobby'll probably want to take pictures first." She glanced outside. "You know, I'm really amazed that the roof can handle this much weight."

"Are you busy this weekend?" Warren asked Will at breakfast. He had risen early, and no one else, outside the two of them, was up yet.

"Not especially. Why?"

"I've been invited to a charity dance. There's going to be some big money there, and I remembered that you wanted to get acquainted with high society, so I wrangled an extra invitation for you."

"What's the dress code?"

"Black tie."

Will frowned. "I'll have to dig my tuxedo out of mothballs. Could I get away with a silver tie and cummerbund?"

"I think so."

"Good. Is an escort expected?"

"The invitation's made out for two."

"I'll let Rogue know about it, then. Will Miss Braddock be accompanying you?"

"I haven't actually asked her yet, but I'm sure she'll say yes."

"Let's see, then," Will said thoughtfully. "Today's Tuesday, so they should have just enough time."

"To do what?"

He broke into a grin "Finish shopping for new dresses."

"What is taking them so long?" Warren muttered as he paced around the foyer. "We're going to be late."

"I'll teleport us if it comes to that. Let them have their fun. I think it's genetically programmed in them, anyway. Some Austrolapithicines probably waited around for Lucy to come out of her cave, and women have kept the racket going ever since."

"I wouldn't let Rogue hear you say that."

Will snorted. "I'm not _that_ crazy," he said as he got up, donned a grey overcoat, and slipped his gloves on.

"We'll be right down," Rogue's voice announced from above them.

"You may want to activate your image inducer now," Will advised Warren as he twirled his hat with one finger.

"Good idea." Warren took the device, designed to look like a cellular phone, from his suit pocket and activated it. A few moments later, his skin shifted from its normal azure to a Caucasian hue.

"I'll be keeping my powers in check tonight, so you shouldn't have any problems with that," Will remarked.

"You two all set?" they heard from behind them.

The next sound heard was that of two jaws hitting the floor as the men turned around.

Rogue was dressed in a subtle outfit which combined a dark green body stocking with an autumn red velour dress, shoes and gloves. The dress hugged the curves of her body closely, showing off her striking figure. Betsy wore a silk gown whose color straddled the line between being violet and black, and which was both backless and slit up to her hip.

"Well?" Rogue asked.

"What do you think?" Betsy interjected.

"Eep," Warren chirped.

"Oog," Will added.

"I think they're impressed." Betsy said to Rogue.

"What gave you that idea?"

Will recovered first, getting Rogue's coat from the closet and offering it to her. After she slipped into it, he crooked his arm to her. She smiled and took it gracefully.

Warren followed Will's lead and offered the same service for Betsy. "I'll drive," he offered.

"We're taking the Rolls, right?" Betsy asked.

"It seems appropriate," Will answered. "Anything else would be out of character."

"That one slipped by me," Rogue confessed.

"Warren is old money, while I'm _nouveau riche_. He'll drive the Rolls because anything else would be below him, and I'll be in one as a way of showing that I'm ready to join high society."

Warren thought about that for a moment. "You're right. If we're going to play the role of ultra rich, than that would be in character."

"Do you have the tape recorder?" Will asked Rogue.

She nodded. "It's in my purse. It's got a range of five meters, it'll last for four hours, and activate at any of our voices."

"Perfect. Let's get going, then."

Will held the front door for everyone, and Warren pulled the Rolls Royce out of the garage a minute later. Will held the back door open for Rogue, and let Betsy into the front.

"No cane?" Rogue asked.

Archetype shook his head. "Won't fit with the role."

"What role?"

"If this were solely a public function I'd bring it along, so that I could project an image of a kindly, beneficent philanthropist. This is mostly a business function, though, so I have to come off as someone who has a great deal of drive, with the intellect and experience to back it up." He turned to Rogue. "Can I borrow your make-up mirror for a few minutes?"

"Sure," she said, digging it out of her purse and handing it to him.

"Thanks." He opened the mirror and looked at his own face. "Okay. My name is Will Riley," he said, talking to himself under his breath. "I'm a certified genius in the financial world. The companies that I own are becoming the best in their industries. Millions of dollars rest on my every decision. My vision is making me a force to be reckoned with. I have the seasoning of experience behind me, I've paid my dues, and I'm ready to enter your world."

He closed his eyes. Rogue watched, fascinated, as his face acquired lines, the set of his jaw strengthened, and the pockets of skin under his eyes sagged slightly.

When he opened his eyes again, they were intent, watchful, and penetrating. They were the eyes of a predator. "What do you think?" he asked Rogue.

"How did you do that?" she replied, wide-eyed.

"The trick is to get into the right mindset. Once I start thinking a certain way, I let that way of thinking reflect itself in my face. If I went there looking the way I did before, no one would take me seriously. This'll also serve as a rudimentary psi-defense."

"Not bad," Betsy said, impressed. "You look like a timber wolf."

Will nodded to her in acknowledgment. "What name will you be going by for this?" he asked Rogue.

"Why don't I go by May O'Hara again? We're both used to it."

"May O'Hara?" Warren asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Long story," Will and Rogue told him at the same time.

They reached the club about an hour later. They left the car in the lot, and, after leaving their coats in the check room, they entered the social hall of the club.

_Some hall,_ Rogue thought._ Looks more like a football field_. The room was massive, decorated in a Gothic Renaissance style which had been popular in the mid-eighteenth century. High-backed benches lined the walls, broken up at regular intervals by large fireplaces. About twenty tables, set for eight each, were placed throughout the room, and a large entranceway at the opposite wall was hosting a cocktail party. An orchestra was playing soft jazz in one area, and some couples, mostly older ladies and gentlemen, were slow dancing to the music.

"Gee, _this_ is going to be exciting," Rogue said sarcastically under her breath.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Will told her. "Watch and learn." He walked straight to the gathering of people near the bar, Rogue following closely behind him.

"Scotch and soda," he told the bartender. "What would you like, May?"

"The same," she answered, puzzled. He had told her he didn't drink.

After the bartender had given them their drinks, Will told her,_ sotto voce_, "It'll look strange if I _don't_ have a drink in my hand." She nodded in understanding. "Is the recorder on?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good." He gestured with his head. "The penguin suit over there is big in mining. He owns some of the larger mineral deposits in the Southwest. Name's James Broadmoor. I met him about a year ago. Play along." He walked over to the older man, who sported a balding head and a handlebar mustache.

"Jim!" he said, enthusiasm in his voice. "Haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

Broadmoor looked at him closely. "Riley? Is that you? Haven't seen you since the Leinster deal." He had a pronounced Texas drawl.

"I've been traveling. Wanted to get a first-hand look at my holdings. May I introduce May O'Hara?"

Rogue took that as her cue and inclined her head towards Broadmoor gracefully, flashing him a brilliant smile. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

Broadmoor's smile widened. "Ma'am, I am utterly charmed. May I ask where you're from?"

"Mississippi, sir."

"You have no idea how refreshing it is to meet a flower of the South here among these New England zombies. How did you and Will meet?"

Will and the others had discussed how to answer this question before they had left. "Will's helping to finance some research at the institute where I work."

"And may I ask what your specialty is, Ms. O'Hara?"

"I'm doing dual work in avionics and biologically imposed synaptic trauma."_ Well, it's not _exactly_ a lie_, she thought to herself.

Will watched Broadmoor's eyes glaze over, as he had expected them to, and decided to make his move at that point. "I'm new to this crowd, Jim. Can you make some introductions?"

"No problem," answered Broadmoor, who seemed grateful to be back in familiar territory.

Over the next hour, they made the rounds of the room, and were introduced to most of the people who Broadmoor considered influential, as opposed to those who were, in his view, living off the success of their predecessors. He included Warren in this list, as Worthington Industries was no longer under his direct control. Warren had, apparently, also earned Broadmoor's scorn because he was a member of the Hellfire Club.

"What have you got against the Hellfire Club?" Will asked.

"Riley, the only reason I'm here at all is that this is a charity function. I don't mix it up with the high and mighty rich folk around here because they annoy the hell out of me. I became rich by working hard, and by being very lucky, just like you did. Those Hellfire Club types, the ones who are in every social club in the books, but haven't worked a day in their lives, have some damn _nobless oblige_ idea that the world is theirs to run behind the scenes."

Will snorted. "I know the mentality."

"And _there's_ a big example of it over there," Broadmoor said, gesturing with his glass to a young man who was mingling through the crowd. "Johann Dieter. Parents died a few years ago in a boating accident in Malta, and he inherited the family fortune. Does nothing but attend parties and flirt with girls. My friends tell me he averages a girlfriend a week."

"A waste of perfectly good carbon, in other words."

"You got it. Rumor has it he does a lot of blackmail to entertain himself. He must have spies or something, because he learns secrets that people thought were buried forever. Oh, great," he groaned, "here he comes."

"_Mister_ Broadmoor!" the young man said with obviously feigned pleasure, "how wonderful to see you again. And who are your companions?" He had an accent which Rogue, through her association with Nightcrawler, was able to identify as Austrian.

"This is Will Riley, and Miss May O'Hara," Broadmoor said, as he gave Archetype a look which said that he was sorry to put them through this.

Rogue felt a familiar sensation then, a prickling at the front of her head. She was being lightly psi-scanned. She wasn't too worried, as she had been taught psychic defenses by Professor Xavier, and it was a sloppy attempt at a scan at best.

Looking at Archetype, she saw that he was aware of it too. His eyes narrowed a moment.

Dieter's eyes widened, and he blinked, shaking his head as if clearing it of something.

Will looked at Broadmoor. "Jim, can I have a moment with Mister Dieter? I have a business proposition that I'd like to discuss with him."

"Sure, Will. I need a refill anyway. Be right back." Broadmoor walked off towards the bar.

"Mister Dieter," Will said in a voice so low that only Dieter and Rogue could hear, "I would strongly advise you not to try that again."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Dieter protested.

"That is a lie," Will said flatly. "Again, don't try that on me or my friend here."

"Are you threatening me?" Dieter asked, his voice rising slightly. "I'll have you know that I am..."

"I couldn't care less who you are," Will said, cutting him off. "I'm simply offering you advice. However, if I _were_ going to threaten you, I'd say something like this: If you _ever_ pull a silly-ass stunt like that on me again, I will have certain people in my employ arrange it so that you will no longer be a biped. _That's_ threatening you. See the difference?"

Dieter's face went absolutely white. "Yes, I see."

"Good. Now run along home. You _were_ just leaving, weren't you?"

Dieter left the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Goddess save us from amateurs," Will said under his breath.

"That isn't an amateur coming our way, though," Rogue told him, looking across the room.

"Who's that?"

"That's Emma Frost."

"Got it." Will had been studying the history of the X-Men in chronological order, and had just reached the Dark Phoenix incident.

Emma crossed the room gracefully, acknowledging Rogue with a nod. "Very impressive, Mister Riley. I've wanted to do that to Dieter for months."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Miss Frost. Any reason for the visit?"

"I just thought we should talk for a minute. We both seem to be covering the same ground, and I don't want us tripping over one another."

"Sensible."

"How has your takeover of the Interim Conglomerate been going?"

"I expect to have controlling interest within this financial quarter."

"Good. Do you plan to fire all of the board of directors?"

"I think that one or two of them can be persuaded to vote along with me." Seeing Rogue's look of confusion, he explained. "Interim has a division which is developing a bio-technological chip which my spies say is slated to become part of the next generation of Sentinel. I plan to scuttle that project."

"How are you planning on that?" Emma asked, curious. "If you just terminate the project, the government will get suspicious."

"Not if it's part of a reorganization of the entire company. I think that a few forced resignations in the right place will send the whole project down into flames."

"You'll lose a fortune."

"I can absorb it."

"You'll still be under contract, though."

"I'll just give the engineers seventy-two hours to throw something together. It's not like that isn't standard industry practice."

"Good point."

Will studied the room for a moment. "I should do a bit more mingling. Here." He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Emma. "That has my personal e-mail address and the phone number of my financial advisor. He also serves as both my attorney and personal secretary, so he can make all the necessary arrangements if you want to talk with me."

"You're his only client?"

"I am now. All the others are dead. Of natural causes," he added hastily, as he saw the looks that Emma and Rogue gave him. "He worked for an old family."

"Oh," Emma said, recovering. "Well, enjoy your evening." She nodded to Rogue again and melted back into the crowd.

"I think she was impressed," Rogue remarked.

"Are you hungry yet?"

"Starving."

"I made reservations for the four of us at Delmonico's. Why don't we grab Warren and Betsy and get going?"

"Sounds good to me." After a few minutes of searching, they found the two of them dancing, cheek-to-cheek, to one of the slow songs. Rogue was about to tap Warren on the shoulder, but Will restrained her by the shoulder gently. "Let them finish out this song," he said in a quiet voice. "They get too little private time as it is."

"Will," she said, smiling, "I don't believe it. You're a romantic."

He shrugged. "We all have our weaknesses."

"Who said that was a weakness?"

As the song ended, they gestured for Warren and Betsy to join them. "You two ready to eat?" Archetype asked.

"I could stand a bite," Warren replied.

"So could I," Betsy added.

"Shall we get going, then?" They wove their way towards the door, gathered their coats, and got into the car once the valet had brought it over.

"Which way?" Warren asked.

"You got me," Will shrugged. "I'm still learning how to drive, remember?"

"Great," Warren grumbled.

After a false start that put them in the wrong direction, they arrived at Delmonico's, and enjoyed a wonderful meal, during which they discussed Warren's opinions of the various clubs he'd frequented during his playboy days. Will insisted on picking up the tab, and again gave his personal thanks to the chef, a habit that Rogue assumed he had picked up during his days in cooking school.

As they made their way through the darkened parking lot back to the car, Will stopped for a moment, listening. "Get down," he snapped, pushing them to the ground.

A moment later, they heard a _crack_, and Will spun around, collapsing to the ground, his hand grabbing at his left shoulder. He was up before anyone else could make a move, his eyes aglow as he glared at the surrounding buildings. A snarl curled across his face as he vanished.

"Rogue, get after him!" Warren snapped as he pulled off his jacket, handing it to Betsy. A moment later, his shirt tore apart into shreds as his wings unfolded.

Both he and Rogue were in the air in seconds, scanning the tops of the buildings. Warren found Will a few moments later, chasing after a figure who was running wildly. "Got him," he said tersely as he dove towards them.

Johann Dieter had been seriously unnerved by his encounter with Will Riley.

A large part of the success that he enjoyed was due to his telepathic power. It was low-grade, to be sure, but it allowed him to get a good idea of what the people around him were thinking. Since the people he usually dealt with were utterly paranoid about respectability, they tended to keep the things that they wanted kept secret near the tops of their minds, so to speak, making them easy to scan. He had made quite a bit of money by demanding payment from his victims to keep quiet. This Riley person was putting that in jeopardy, and Dieter was far too fond of the good life to put his future in the hands of a damned _Irlander_. He had followed their car as they left the club, keeping his shields up to make sure that Riley couldn't pick him up.

He ran as soon as he made the shot, because he knew that he had inhaled as he fired, throwing the barrel off slightly. Riley might still be alive, and he had no desire to see that man again.

He heard a scraping sound behind him a few seconds later and turned around, immediately wishing that he hadn't.

Riley was coming after him. His left shoulder was still bleeding, sending rivulets of blood down his arm and soaking his shirt. His eyes were glowing like a pair of lanterns, and he had a look on his face that could only be described as murderous.

Dieter started panicking at that point and stopped watching where he was going. He tripped on the short wall in front of him, and tumbled over the edge of the building.

A hand grabbed him just as he was about to fall.

Riley's hand.

Dieter looked up into Riley's face, looking for some trace of compassion, some sign of mercy that told him he wasn't going to die.

He found none.

"Well, what have we here?" Archetype said in a deceptively friendly voice. "If it isn't my friend _Herr_ Dieter. Tell me, what's a nice boy like you doing on a rooftop in the middle of the night?"

Dieter was so terrified that he could only respond in German. Archetype shook him. "In _English_, you idiot," he said in a disgusted voice. "Oh, never mind."

"You could have killed one of my friends down there," he informed Dieter with a growl. "If you wanted my blood, I would have been more than happy to give you satisfaction at one place or another. This was _way_ over the line. If you want to play with the big boys, then you have to be willing to pay the entrance fee."

"Will, don't!" Warren yelled as he landed. "He's not worth it."

"He's a parasite," Archetype said clinically. "No one would miss him."

"We'll let the police take care of it."

"He'll buy his way out of jail and be out of the country in a day."

"Please don't, Will," Rogue asked him as she landed with Betsy in her arms.

"Wonderful," Archetype said sarcastically. "You realize you three just blew your identities, don't you?"

"We'd prefer that that over seeing you become a murderer."

He stared at her levelly. "What makes you think I'm not already?"

"Because I know you won't kill for no reason."

His face softened at that for a moment, then stiffened again.

"Nice try." He looked back to Dieter. _"Auf Wiedersehn."_

He let go. Dieter screamed as he fell.

All of ten feet. A Door opened below Dieter, depositing him back onto the roof.

"I wasn't going to kill him," Archetype said quietly, "but he needed to be taught a lesson."

Rogue swallowed, putting her heart back in her chest. "I understand."

He looked back at Dieter, who was still on his back, gibbering in terror. He walked over to him and grabbed him by the collar. "Listen to me very closely," he said. "You are going to take the next international flight out of America. If I were you, I'd bring as much money as I could carry, because within the next week, I'm going to _own_ every company that you hold stock in. There are going to be _bellhops_ worth more than you. If I ever see you again, I'm going to finish what I started here."

He let go of Dieter, who kept babbling, then looked at Betsy. "Can you do something that'll keep him from remembering what you three look like?"

"Yes. You want him to remember your face?"

"I want my face to haunt his dreams," he told her in a bleak voice.

"How's your shoulder?" Warren asked Will as they made their way back to the car.

"I still have to get the bullet out." He was carrying the rifle in his good arm, since they didn't want it lying around, and he had recovered the casing.

"There's a first-aid kit in the car," Betsy said. She opened the trunk and removed one of the Portable Triage Units that were standard issue for the X-Men.

"Just give me the forceps."

"No anesthesia?"

"I'll live." He gave the rifle to Warren, who unloaded the bullets, and took the forceps from Betsy. He shrugged out of the jacket, handing it to Rogue, then sat cross-legged on the ground. He held the forceps in his teeth while he dug his wallet out of his back pocket, then replaced the forceps with the wallet in his mouth, biting down on it as he removed the bullet with the forceps.

Rogue felt slightly sick as she watched him. "Why don't you wait until we get back to the mansion?"

He didn't answer until he had removed the bullet, glaring at it for a moment before spitting out the wallet. "Because I'm going to start healing in a few minutes, and I'd rather not be cut open again because this thing was still in my system." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

After a few seconds, the hole started to close. Once a scar had covered the wound, he got up. "That'll do for now. I can take care of the rest in the car. Let's get going."

Henry studied the scar when they returned to the mansion. "Looks like a clean wound," he remarked to Will as he swabbed it with disinfectant. "You did a good job."

"It should be healed completely by morning," Will replied. "Were any of the others hurt?"

"Betsy has a slight scrape on her knee."

"You did good, rookie," Logan said as he leaned against the opposite wall. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"I scared the hell out of Rogue."

"She'll get over it."

"What did you do with the rifle?"

"Put it in the armory. I thought we could use a sniper one of these days."

"Good. Are we done here?" he asked Henry.

"That should be it. Are you going to bed?"

"Once I shower this crap off of me. Some night off."

As he exited the medlab, Will saw Rogue leaning against the wall next to the elevator. She had changed out of her dress, and was now wearing a sweatsuit with the school insignia on it. "How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"A little sore. I should be okay by morning. How are _you_?"

She was silent for a moment. "You scared me," she said in a quiet voice.

"I know," he said, just as quietly. "I'm sorry."

They said nothing as they entered the elevator. After a few seconds Will spoke again. "I

didn't even think. I saw that he had put the three of you, especially you, in danger, and a part of my mind

went into automatic. If any of you had been hurt, I probably would have killed him." He leaned against the elevator wall and sighed. "That's a frightening thought. I knew I was dark, but not _that_ dark."

"You would have killed for me? For any of the X-Men?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"In a cold minute. You're my family now. That puts certain obligations on me."

"To kill?"

"To die, if necessary."

"I didn't realize you felt that strongly about it."

He looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, now you know," he said gruffly as the elevator doors opened. "Good night."

"Wait a second," Rogue said suddenly, restraining him by his uninjured arm. She looked down the hall and saw Ororo coming up the stairs. "Storm, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Is there a problem, Rogue?"

"I just want you to do something for me. Will, stay here a second, okay?"

"Uh, sure," he said, confused.

Rogue spoke quietly with Ororo for about half a minute, then they both returned.

"Rogue asked me to give you something for her," Ororo told him. Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you," Rogue said in a whisper.


	20. Chapter 20

Will spent most of the next morning in training with Xavier and Jean, attempting to devise psychic defenses which would best make use of his unique situation. The effort was frustrating for all of them, and left Will with a splitting headache.

Rogue had decided to go shopping with Betsy that afternoon, so Will chose to continue his independent study into the history of the X-Men. He made himself a pot of tea, then descended to the War Room and placed himself in one of the seats at the Annotation Secretarial Terminal.

Henry had, once Will had expressed an interest in the subject, compiled a general history of the X-Men, which gave the various missions, with historical background information, in a generally chronological order. The program was designed to run as a multimedia event, providing as much or as little detail as Will desired. It was also designed to turn itself off after an hour, since experimentation had determined that to be the longest amount of time that Will could spend around the computers without his powers putting them at risk.

"All right," Will said to himself, as he took down notes, "Morlock Massacre. Injured X-Men were Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, and Colossus, now all in Excalibur. New Mutants had one casualty, Cypher. X-Factor, pre-Fed, lost Warren." He paused, sipping at his tea. "Computer, if Angel was injured in Morlock massacre, explain current status as X-Man. Is his current condition the result of a new mutation?"

"_Negative. Current physical status of Angel result of genetic manipulation by Apocalypse."_

Will paused a moment. That name meant something to him, but he couldn't quite place it. "Please show visual record of Apocalypse."

The computer complied, placing the image on the largest screen.

Will froze, staring at the viewscreen. The next thing he knew, he was being shaken gently by Logan.

"Hey, you okay? You spaced out on us there."

Will shook his head, trying to clear it. "How long?"

"At least an hour."

Will looked thoughtful for a moment. He touched the teapot. It was cold. He glanced at the monitor, then got up and left the room, not saying a word.

Rogue and Betsy came back about two hours later, loaded down with shopping bags. "You think Warren'll like that nightie you bought?" Rogue asked Betsy as she shut the door.

"I'll think he'll find some way to show his appreciation," she replied with a smile.

"Rogue?" Bobby's voice echoed from the kitchen. "Is that you?" He entered the foyer, his face concerned. "You'd better look in on Will."

"What's wrong?"

"We don't know. He was going over the historical files, and Wolvie says he zoned out for a while. When Wolvie shook him out of it, he just got up and went straight to bed. 'Roro and me tried to get him to talk to us, but all he does is lie there in the dark."

"Will? Are you okay?"

"Please go away, Rogue. I'd like to be alone for a little while."

"Not until you tell me what happened. You've got everybody worried sick."

"I'm touched," he said sarcastically.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted a family. Now you have to put up with nosy relatives." She switched on the light.

He snarled at the sudden illumination. "You're not going to let this lie, are you?"

"Nope."

He exhaled. "Give me a minute to get dressed."

"Okay," she said, leaning against the wall.

"_Alone_."

"Why bother? I've seen you naked before."

"You _have_?" Ororo asked, raising an eyebrow as she walked in.

"Gee, thanks, Rogue," Will said dryly. "Why don't we post it to the Internet?"

"Post what?" Bobby asked as he walked by.

"What _is_ this, 'A Night at the Opera'?" Will howled.

"Well, we could invite everybody else in if you want..."

"Out. Out! _Out_!"

"We want you downstairs in five minutes," Ororo said as she shut the door. Will could only make a strangled noise in return.

"How'd you know that would work?" Bobby asked Rogue as they went downstairs.

Rogue gave him a sneaky little smile. "He may not want to talk with us, but he wants to have all of the X-Men in his bedroom even less."

Five minutes later, Will was in pajamas and a robe and sitting in the parlor with the rest of the team.

"This is going to take me a while to explain. A lot of what happened to me took place at an intuitive, gut level."

"Take your time," Xavier said.

"That's what I was trying to do when I was shanghaied down here," he grumbled. "I'm still sorting through it all."

"Start at the beginning," Jean suggested.

"I've got a feeling that the beginning of this started about four thousand years ago, Jean."

"With Apocalypse?"

"Right." He leaned back a bit in the chair. "While I was healing on my mountain..."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that," Warren interrupted. "Why do you call it _your_ mountain?"

"Because I brought the land as soon as I had enough money. Now you woke me up for this. Do you want to hear it or not?" Will's mood had obviously not improved.

"Sorry."

"While I was there, on the floor of my cabin, my mind drifted all over the place. I heard everything from conversations between five-year olds to Gregorian chants. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, except for certain times when an emotion and an image converged." He tossed a printout of Apocalypse's face onto the table. "_That_ image."

"What was the emotion?" Henry asked.

"Calling it hatred would be generous."

"But you've never actually _seen_ Apocalypse before today?" Scott asked.

"Never. But when I saw that picture, it felt like someone wrapped a fist around my heart and gave it a good squeeze." His face was grim.

"What do you think this means, Will?" Xavier asked.

"I don't know yet. I'll have to chew on it a bit more."

"So you can reason it out?"

"I don't think reason will have much to do with my answer. It's been my experience that most of the answers that I get are irrational, but true anyway." He yawned. "Can I go back to bed now?"

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really. I'll warn you now, I plan to stay asleep until I figure this out."

Xavier frowned. "We'll wake you if I think you're going too far, or if there's an emergency."

"Fair enough." He winked out.

"Well?" Xavier asked everyone there.

"I'm worried about him," Rogue confessed. "This is a side of him I haven't seen before."

"I think we're starting to see that dark side that he keeps talking about," Betsy commented.

"I think you're right," Scott conceded. "Does that make him too dangerous?"

"I don't think so," Ororo said. "He hasn't been violent without cause, and he seems to be aware enough of what his emotions are. So far, he's only been aggressive when he's been threatened."

"I know I would've been a lot tougher on that guy who shot him than he was," Logan agreed.

"We might want to keep an eye on him when he wakes up," Jean advised. "He may take a day or two to get back to the real world."

In fact, it took three days. Will had closed the shutters and drawn the shades, so no light entered his room. He woke up at two in the morning on the second day, put on some pajamas and a robe, and plodded down to the kitchen.

To his surprise, Rogue was there, her back to him, scrounging through the cabinets. She was wearing a light blue pair of silk pajamas.

"Found anything edible?" he asked.

"Give me a minute," Rogue replied, not turning around. Then she stopped for a moment, and looked behind her shoulder. "I wasn't expecting you up yet."

"I just wanted a bite to eat. I'll be going back to bed soon. What were you having?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"How about a sandwich?"

"Are you making it?"

He shrugged. "No problem." A few minutes later, he had assembled a pair of massive roast beef and turkey sandwiches.

"Have you figured out what happened?"

"I've got one or two theories, but nothing concrete."

"This is really bothering you, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I know it's important, but I don't know what to do about it."

"Why not leave it alone? Just let events take care of themselves?"

He thought about it for a moment. "That's good advice, actually. I've been so active since I got here, maybe it _would_ be a good idea to relax for a while."

"What are you going to be doing, then?"

"I'll act as if it never happened. I can't do anything about it yet, so I'm not going to strain my brain." He finished his sandwich and sat up, putting the plate in the sink. "I'll see you in a day or two. Good night."

"Night. No, wait," she said as he started to leave.

"Problem?"

"Can we talk for a while?"

"About what?"

"Us."

He sat back down, waiting, one eyebrow arched.

"I need to know some things about you," she said tentatively.

"Like what?"

"What were you like... before?"

"Before everything happened?" She nodded.

He became thoughtful. "All I really have is random bits of memory, and the emotional impressions that go with them. I do remember that I wasn't a very happy man. I think that I was lonely... depressed. I was very timid. I didn't assert myself. I was cold, impersonal. I buried myself in my work. Does that help at all?"

"Were you ever in love?"

"Not that I recall. I think that I'd remember something like that. I don't think I dated much, if at all. I was too shy."

"You? Shy?"

He shrugged. "I'm still shy. Do you have any idea how much courage it took me to ask you out? You're an intimidating woman, you know."

"Me? Intimidating?"

"I was terrified you'd laugh in my face."

"I'd never do that."

"I know that now. I didn't then."

"Why did I seem intimidating?"

"I looked a lot different when I was younger. I was your typical pencil neck geek. Girls may as well have been from another planet. The fact that I hated crowds didn't help. I couldn't go to parties – the sort of thing you go to in college nowadays would send me into a panic attack. By the time I got out of the awkward stage, my reaction around women was to clam up and try to blend in with the wallpaper. If you and I had run into one another back then, I would have turned six shades of red if you so much as said a word to me."

"And now?"

He gave her an ironic smile. "Believe it or not, I'm still intimidated by you."

"Why?"

"Because, my dear, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, and I'm surprised that you haven't left a trail of broken-hearted men in your wake."

Rogue blushed at the compliment. "You didn't see me when I first came to the X-Men."

"You looked different then?"

"Let me get a picture. I'll be right back." She walked over to the gallery and removed a photo from the wall. "That's what I looked like when I first joined," she said as she handed it to him.

"Your hair is different," he noted. "What's with that?"

Rogue became embarrassed. "That was one of my dumber moves." Seeing his confused expression, she continued. "I was born with my hair like this," she said, as she twisted a piece of her white forelock in her fingers. "I got teased so much about it, though, that I covered it with dye until I was twelve."

"One day, I saw a picture of Stephen Strange – Doctor Strange. His hair had natural white streaks that I thought looked a lot better than anything I had, so I bleached my hair to look like his. I let it go back to the single streak later, after I joined the X-Men, because I realized how silly I was being about the whole thing."

"When did you go back to your natural colors?"

"Not until the Savage Land. It started curling once I let it go long, so I just decided to stick with what I'd been born with."

"Well, I think you look fabulous with what nature has provided you."

She smiled shyly. "Thanks. I'd better get back to bed," she decided, glancing at the clock. "I've got a Danger Room session at eight."

"I need to get back to sleep, too. I want to be back on duty tomorrow if I can." He shut off the light as they left the kitchen.

"Do you think you're ready?" she asked him quietly as they ascended the stairs.

"I'm not sure, but I know I can't let this throw me off track."

"Please promise me that you'll talk about it if you have any problems."

"I promise. Good night."

As she readied for bed, Rogue reviewed their conversation in her mind. She recalled his portrayal of her as intimidating. That was a word that she had never considered descriptive of herself. She rolled the word around in her mind a few times, smiling naughtily as she drifted into sleep.

When Will woke up again, he seemed to be rather irritated for some reason. "I want to be pushed to my limit on this test," he told Xavier as he walked into the Danger Room.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I've been a lump for the past four days. I need a real workout."

"All right. Give us a few minutes to come up with something." Xavier switched off the intercom, then looked at Henry and Ororo, who were there to observe. "Any ideas?" he asked them.

Ororo thought about it for a moment. "We've done a thorough job of testing him physically. I think we should start looking for psychological weaknesses."

"Not a bad idea," Henry agreed. "Where should we start?"

"Rogue told me that he's an ocolaphobe. Why don't we surround him - slowly, of course - and see how he reacts?"

"Good idea." Henry entered a series of commands into the computer, then switched the intercom back on. "This will be a test of your combat skills only. No powers, please. Just take down your opponents. Destructive force is allowed."

Will nodded his understanding and pulled his sword from the air. Henry executed the program, and three humaniform dummies, mounted on wheels so that they could move around, rose from the floor. This particular model, an improvement on an earlier design, had articulated limbs which gave them the ability to attack and the equivalent strength of a human bodybuilder.

"Here's what we'll do," Xavier told Ororo and Henry. "We're going to slowly increase his number of opponents, then we'll add in visual and audio distractions, while cornering him at the same time. That ought to get some kind of reaction out of him."

"Don't push him too far," Ororo cautioned. "I don't want a repeat of what happened when he fought Logan."

"Session beginning now," Henry said.

The robots started moving in for an attack. In the space of two seconds, Will struck the head from one, then sliced the arms off the others.

"Is it just me," Henry mused as he observed, "or does this seem familiar?"

"Increasing to five," Xavier announced as more robots arose from the floor.

Will became a bit more inventive this time. As the robots sped towards him, he simply pushed them into one another and severed their hydraulic lines with his sword, causing them to short out and leaving a large pile of metal on the floor.

"Seven." Xavier said. "Adding distractions." A series of small, high-intensity spotlights emerged from the walls, shining randomly. At the same time, the general lighting of the room dimmed, making it harder for Will to see his opponents. Meanwhile, the pressor fields created sounds of gunfire, screaming, and yelling.

"That spooked him," Henry noted, observing Will's reaction.

"He recovered pretty quickly, though" Ororo replied. "Charles, are you getting anything from him?"

"He's off-balance, but he's not panicking yet."

"Time to heighten the pressure, then. Increase the temperature to thirty degrees, and add another ten opponents. We'll try to herd him into a corner."

Will was slowly pushed back by the robots towards the far corner of the room. His attacks became more frantic, affecting the robots randomly, in stark contrast to the methodical steps he had taken earlier in the exercise.

He was finally pushed back to the corner, where he flattened against the wall. He looked frantically for a way out, finding none.

Henry, who had been monitoring Will's medical signs, suddenly gasped. "Get down!" he barked, doing so himself, grabbing Xavier on the way to the floor.

Ororo hit the floor as soon as she heard Henry, covering her head with her arms.

Later, when they talked with each other about the experience, they would have trouble coming up with words to describe it. They all got the sudden feeling, however, that things were not as they should have been - that there was a _wrongness_ to the event.

A wave of nausea gripped Ororo, and she clamped down on her mouth to avoid vomiting. The sensation quickly passed, however, and she stood up a minute later. "Are you both all right?" she asked Henry and Xavier.

They both nodded weakly. Henry struggled up to the window. "Oh my stars and garters," he whispered.

"What is it, Hank?" Xavier asked as he maneuvered his chair to an upright position.

"I think you'd better see for yourself, Charles."

Xavier and Ororo made their way to the window. The room was a shambles. Pieces of the computers which made up the walls of the Danger Room had exploded, leaving small holes scattered over the usually white walls and giving the room a pockmarked appearance. The robots had been hurled against the wall below them, resulting in a pile of junk.

Will was still leaning against the opposite wall. His face was white, and his breathing was heavy and erratic. As he wiped his brow, they could see that his hands were shaking. His face had the look of a frightened child.

"Henry, see to him," Xavier said in a businesslike fashion.

Henry made no reply, but instead leaped out of the room and entered the elevator. When he hit the button to go down, sparks flew out of the panel, causing Henry to curse under his breath. "We'll have to pop the window," he said.

He and Ororo went back to the viewport and peeled off the polymer lining which framed it. Pushing on the bottom of the window caused it to pivot out on its hinges, giving both Henry and Ororo enough room to jump out. Ororo lowered them down on a gust of wind.

They approached Will slowly, taking care not to panic him. "Will," Henry said quietly, "are you all right?"

Will didn't answer him. His eyes were staring into space, not seeing either of them.

"Let me try," Ororo suggested. She crouched down, looking straight into his eyes. He didn't seem to see her. "Will, it's Ororo. Are you all right?"

He glanced at her nervously, then, with a visible effort, brought himself under control. "Yes," he said, as he stood up and straightened his clothing, "I'm fine, thank you. Is the test complete?"

"Yes, it is," Xavier said from above them. "I want Hank to give you a checkup, though."

"Fine." He walked out of the Danger Room, with Henry right behind him.

"I wasn't able to do an EKG scan because of his disruption field," Henry told Xavier later, "but a blood analysis showed extremely high levels of adrenaline. I think that what happened was some sort of instinctive reaction to being trapped."

"I agree," Xavier said. "Anything else?"

"He had some minor cuts and scrapes, but that was it."

"Where is he now?"

"I believe he went outside."

It was Bobby's turn for perimeter duty, and he made a game of it as usual, tossing snowballs at anything that looked like a likely target. He sauntered along, whistling to himself as he entered the woods which bordered the lake.

As he wound his way through the trees, he created six snowballs, juggling them with the ease of long practice. Bobby had been taught juggling by Nightcrawler, and liked to keep his skills up.

He became more daring as he continued, tossing them higher and higher until they went up into the trees. After long practice, he had reached the point where he could send all six balls into the air, then catch them without breaking stride. He waited for them to come down.

They didn't.

Bobby frowned, thinking that they must have stuck to something up in the tree. He wandered under the tree for a few moments, trying to get a better view, but the thick leaves prevented that. Finally, he iced up and ascended into the tree on an ice platform.

Will was comfortably settled in one of the larger branches of the tree, a writing pad balanced on one knee. He had a small lunch hanging from a bag next to him. The snowballs had been placed on another branch.

"What are you doing up here?" Bobby asked.

"Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits."

Bobby thought about that a moment. "I know I've heard that somewhere before."

"I saw it on a poster once when I was in college."

"You okay?"

Will nodded. "I just needed to be alone for a little while." He placed the pad and pencil in the bag and jumped out of the tree. "I have to get started on dinner."

"Dinner's not for five hours," Bobby protested.

"I'm making chili. That takes a while."

"Oh. How hot do you make it?"

"Let's just say that you don't want to be in your ice form while you're eating it."

Ororo entered the kitchen two hours later, attracted by an intriguing smell. "What are you making?" she asked Will.

"Chili," he replied as he cut up some onions and peppers. "And there's bread in the oven."

Ororo peeked into the oven. "That's quite a bit of bread."

"I'm going to hollow them out and use them as serving bowls for the chili. Less mess to clean up later."

"Innovative."

He shrugged. "Elementary."

"Can I help with anything?"

"There's some cheese on the top drawer of the refrigerator. Could you pull out the food processor and shred it?"

"Certainly." A few moments later, Ororo was chopping the cheese into manageable blocks. "Will?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Yes?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"Rogue told me that you serve the Goddess. Is that true?"

He looked at her and nodded. "Yes, it's true. Why?"

"Were you raised to believe in her?"

He shook his head. "No. I was raised Catholic, actually. But I never really believed in any of it."

"I don't understand."

Will looked thoughtful as he stirred the vegetables into the pot. "Did you ever get the feeling that a situation that you were in was just wrong? Well, not _entirely_ wrong, but just wrong for _you_?"

She thought about it a moment. "Yes. I was once trapped in a world that was full of life, but had no soul. I always felt that there was something... hollow about that place."

"That was the Adversary's world, right?"

"Correct."

"Well, Catholic school was a lot like that for me. I just couldn't bring myself to believe that what I was being taught was the truth. I decided that it might work for everybody else, but it didn't work for me. Once I graduated, and stopped being surrounded by nuns and priests eight hours a day, I started doing some research into my Irish heritage. Once I started that, I eventually learned about Celtic paganism, and that eventually led me to Wicca. That was when I discovered something that was very important to me."

"Which was?"

"That Wicca was what I had _always believed_. I just didn't have a word to describe it before."

Ororo nodded. "I think I can understand that. I had what one might call a personal experience with the Goddess when I was a young girl."

"You _did_?" Will asked, raising one eyebrow. "Would you mind describing it? If it isn't too personal," he amended hastily.

"Not at all," she replied, as she placed the cheese back in the refrigerator. She sat down, thinking back. "What do you know of my life before the X-Men?"

"Not much. I'm still working on the history of the team. I don't want to get into individual histories until I'm done with that."

"I will keep this brief, then. I was orphaned as a child, and lived on the streets of Cairo as a thief for several years. Eventually, I wandered down to Kenya, where I was adopted by my mother's tribe, who thought me a goddess."

"Because of your appearance?" he guessed.

"Yes. I resembled their goddess so closely that it was uncanny." She stopped for a moment, frowning. "Let me rephrase that. They considered me an earthly manifestation of the Goddess. As my mutant powers developed, I realized that along with them went a awareness of the state of the environment around me. I could _feel_ the health of the earth itself.

"In any case, it was a custom among the tribe that a young woman, soon after menarche, would go up into the hills to speak with the Goddess as an initiation into womanhood. Because of my importance to the tribe, my initiation was a highly anticipated event.

"The initiation was preceded by a three-day period of fasting and meditation, intended to purify the body and spirit. I went into the hills, and sat on the top of the highest point, staring at the stars.

"I have never been certain of just how long I stood there, waiting. Even to this day, I am not sure that I expected anything to happen. After a while, I suppose that I became bored and anxious. I gazed up at the full moon. I can still remember my exact words: 'Great Mother, Bright Lady of the earth and air, heed thy daughter's call!'"

"And to my amazement... she did."

"What did you see?" he asked her in a quiet voice.

"The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, before or since. Her hair was the silver of the moon, and her skin was flawlessly smooth, unweathered by the elements. Her eyes held a timeless wisdom and love that I have not experienced since.

"When I came back down, the villagers could see in my eyes what had happened. From that day on, I became a protector of the lands, sending rain whenever the crops risked failure. I remained in that role until Charles approached me and asked me to join the X-Men.

"And now and then," she said to herself, "I wonder if I made the right decision."

Will looked at her for a moment. "I envy you, Ororo. You were gifted with something that I've tried to attain for ten years now.

"One of the disadvantages of my powers is that serenity is not something that I can attain easily. My mind bounces around so much that I can't gain sufficient balance to meditate properly. I've wondered just how much more I might be able to accomplish if I could focus properly." He glanced back at the pot, then went to the cupboard, removing some spices, which he added to the chili. "We'll just let that simmer for an hour or two." He stood there for a moment, thinking, then straightened up. "The full moon will be next week. I usually hold a private worship service, and I was planning on going to one of the places that I own that night, so that I wouldn't disturb anybody else. You're more than welcome to join me if you wish."

"I would be honored, but you don't have to leave," Ororo informed him. "We will all respect your privacy. If you ask Charles, I am sure that he will allow you to hold your service in the gardens."

"I'll think about it." He opened the oven. "These are ready." He grabbed a pair of oven mitts and removed the loaves. "They should be cool by dinnertime."

Dinner was attended by most of the residents of the mansion, since the aroma from the chili had attracted most of them at one point or another. Will had hollowed out the loaves, poured in the chili, and placed the tops back on as lids, placing the cores beside them on the plates. The cheese was placed in the center of the table, and pitchers of water and milk were at the ends.

Bobby dug right in. "I want to see if this stuff is as hot as you say it is," he told Will.

Will poured a glass of milk and handed it to Warren. "Could you pass this down to him, please? I give him about ten seconds."

Bobby's face turned a shade of red that none of them had ever seen before. He grabbed the glass from Warren and gulped it down. "What did you put in this stuff?" he exclaimed.

"Oh, the usual - dragon fire, lava, brimstone."

Logan ate with relish. "Haven't tasted chili this good in a while," he complimented Will.

"Thanks. Think it rates a six-alarm rating?"

"I'd give it a five."

"Everybody's a critic," Will sniffed.

After everyone else had sufficiently cauterized their taste buds, they came to the conclusion that the meal was quite good. Afterwards, Henry and Logan took care of the dishes. Will flopped into an easy chair in the parlor and stretched. Rogue sat next to him a minute later. "You feeling any better?" she asked him.

"I'm not as anxious as I was before, if that's what you mean."

"Good. Are you up to doing anything tonight?"

"Any ideas?"

"I thought we could rent a movie."

"Sounds good to me. I assume you have a membership somewhere near here?"

"There's a place in town. I'll drive."

They stood among the various offerings of the video store. "Okay," Will asked, "do we see something new, or a classic?"

"Let's go with something older. How about _Gone With the Wind_?"

"A bit too sappy for my taste. What about _Spartacus_? I'm a Kirk Douglas fan."

"Let's make that your choice. I want a romantic movie."

"We'll get three, then. I'm off duty tomorrow, anyway. Here's one," he said, handing a tape box to her.

"_The Princess Bride_? Kurt's been telling me about this movie for years, but I haven't gotten around to seeing it yet."

"Romance, comedy, and adventure, all in one."

"Sounds good. What's the third one, then?"

"How about _Casablanca_?"

"Ooh, I _love_ that movie!"

"Well, then, sweetheart," Will said in an awful impression of Humphrey Bogart, "next time we can look for the black bird."

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"Don't quit your day job."

When they got back to the mansion, they found that the television was being used by Logan and Bishop. Logan was watching _The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance_ and trying to answer Bishop's incessant questions about the historical setting at the same time. "We'll never pry them away from there," Will complained.

"That's okay," Rogue replied. "I have a TV and VCR in my room. Come on." She started up the stairs. Will simply raised one eyebrow and followed her.

Rogue dug her TV/VCR combo from the closet and placed it on her hope chest. "Which do you want to see first?" she asked him.

"Your room, your TV, your choice."

"_The Princess Bride_ it is, then." She popped the tape in and sat up against the header of the bed. She noticed that Will hadn't moved. "What's wrong?"

He looked around the room. "Where do I sit?"

"Right next to me, silly."

"Isn't that a little risky? I mean, with your powers?"

She looked at him pointedly as she kicked off her shoes. "Will, you haven't been anything less than a perfect gentleman since the day I met you. I don't think that's going to change. We're both wearing gloves and long-sleeved shirts. If _I'm_ not worried, _you_ shouldn't be."

He thought about that a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough." He removed his shoes and sat down next to her, stretching out his legs. Rogue gestured with the remote and the movie began.

Since she had never seen it before, the various perils of Wesley and Buttercup kept her entranced, while Senor Montoya, Fezzig, Prince Humperdinck, Miracle Max and the Man in Black kept her in stitches, and the duel between Montoya and Wesley floored her. "No wonder Kurt loves this movie. That's the best sword fight scene I've ever seen," she said at the end.

"Remind me to rent _The Court Jester_ next time. You liked it?"

"It was great. Which one next?"

"Let's watch _Casablanca_ next. It's getting late, so we'll watch the other one tomorrow."

"I'll switch tapes."

Rogue had always seen _Casablanca_ on television before, so watching it without incessant commercial breaks was new to her. She had sat back on the bed a bit lower than before, and after a few minutes, she decided to take a risk. "Will?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind if I moved a little bit?"

"Of course not."

She paused the movie for a moment, then moved so that she was leaning back onto Will, her body positioned between his legs. She lay back slightly, her head resting against his chest. She took his right hand in hers and held it loosely. "That's better," she sighed as she started the movie again.

Will said nothing. He had decided back in Paris to allow her to control the direction of their relationship, seeing immediately that she was nervous about any sort of intimacy. He was glad to see that she had relaxed enough around him to be able to instigate a degree of casual contact. He smiled and turned his attention to the movie.

As the closing credits rolled, he squeezed Rogue's hand lightly. "What did you think?"

He didn't get an answer. "Rogue?" he asked.

After a moment, he heard the soft sound of her snoring. He gently disengaged her hand from his, then slowly moved his body out from underneath hers, trying to disturb her as little as possible. He quietly put the TV back in the closet, then opened the chest and removed a blanket, which he draped over her. He looked at her a moment, his eyes soft, then put his gloved fingertips to his lips and placed them on her forehead. He picked up his shoes and the tapes, then left her room, closing the door behind him.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered just before shutting the door.


	21. Chapter 21

Rogue awoke the next morning to the sound of a knock on her door. "Are you decent?" Will's voice asked from the other side.

She sat up in the bed, then realized that she must have fallen asleep during the movie. "Come in," she said, stifling a yawn.

Will entered, balancing a tray on one hand and holding a TV tray stand in the other. "Breakfast is served," he said with a dramatic flourish as he set up the tray stand and placed the tray on it. He uncovered the tray, revealing poached eggs, pancakes, sausage, and chicken fried steak. A yellow rose was set on the side of the tray.

"Why, thank you," she said, touched by his efforts. "What's the occasion?"

"I simply wanted to show my appreciation to the woman who gives me a reason to get up in the morning - that reason being that you've threatened to pour ice cubes into my bed if I don't."

Rogue stuck her tongue out at him. "What will you be doing today?"

"I have some paperwork to catch up on. I want to drop my attorney a line, too, and let him know I'm still alive. He gets nervous if he doesn't hear from me once in a while."

"Well," she said, looking at the clock, "I've got a Danger Room session in an hour, and then I have monitor duty. I'll see you at lunch?"

"You should, you and Bobby are cooking."

"Damn, that's right," she groused. "It's gonna be a busy day."

"For one of us, at least," he said with a grin. He dodged out of her range of fire and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Logan entered the War Room later that morning to check up on things. He felt that it wasn't really necessary, but he knew that if he didn't, Bishop would, and Bishop's paranoia tended to set people on edge. He saw Rogue sitting at the security monitors and approached her. He noticed that her eyes were slightly glazed and sighed inwardly. She had always had a tendency to drift mentally when she was working the monitors. He cleared his throat.

Rogue shook out of her reverie and blushed with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"If Scott or 'Roro had caught you, you'd have an extra shift on your schedule. I'm in a good mood today, so I'll cut you some slack. You had a late night with Will?"

Rogue nodded in acknowledgment, smiling.

"You're really falling for him, aren't you?" Logan asked, returning the smile.

"I've never met anyone like him, Wolvie. Since we started out, he's been trying to protect me, even though he knows that I can take more punishment than he can. He's been willing to let me take the lead in our relationship. There's no pressure on me to be anything other than who I am. Did you know that he told me that he doesn't _want_ to know my real name? He said that it's part of my past, and he's concerned with who I am now."

"He's a smart guy, then," Logan answered. "It's nice to see you smilin' again, kiddo. Haven't seen it in a while."

"Haven't had much reason to for a while." She thought for a moment. "What do you think of him, Wolvie?"

"I think that the guy's a lot more dangerous than Chuck or Val thinks."

"Does that mean you don't trust him?"

He shook his head. "I'd trust him with my life. I'm not so sure I'd trust him with _his_, though."

"I don't get it."

Logan phrased his next statement carefully, because he didn't want to upset Rogue, and because he hoped that he was wrong. "You know that I try to follow the _bushido_ code, right?" She nodded.

"The code has a principle of unswerving devotion to duty. You give your life, if necessary, if you feel that the things that you're sworn to protect are threatened.

"Sometimes, though, you have a samurai who is so devoted to his duty that he looks for opportunities to prove his devotion, whether it's necessary or not. That kind of samurai is dangerous, because he might drag you into the fight right along with him."

"You're saying that Will might be _too_ devoted to his ideals?" Rogue asked.

"I'm just saying that we might want to keep a close eye on him if things get too hairy." He looked at the clock. "You should get started on lunch. I'm your relief."

* * *

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, Rogue?"

"What do you think of Will?"

"I think he makes a sadistic chili."

"I'm serious."

"I think he needs to open up to us a bit more. But I don't think it's going to happen anytime soon."

"Why's that?"

"He just seems to be the type of guy who plays his cards close to his chest."

Suddenly, Rogue got an idea. "That's _brilliant_, sugar!" she told Bobby, smiling.

"What did I say?"

* * *

"Poker night?"

"We play about once a month, if we can get enough people interested," Logan informed Will. "You in?"

Will shrugged. "Why not? I haven't played in years, though. My game's a little rusty. What's the opening pot?"

"Whatever you come in with. I start with five hundred."

"That sounds about right."

"We hold our games at one of Warren's places in Soho. We'll be leaving at seven."

"I'll be ready. I have to go get some cigars, though."

"You can't play without a stogie either, huh?"

"The game just isn't the same without one."

"You can have one of mine. Meet you at the door."

Will, Logan, Rogue, Bobby, Ororo, and Henry piled into the school van and reached Warren's place in less than an hour, having stopped at a store for a beer-and snacks run on the way. The poker table was in its customary place, since neither Warren nor Betsy had been there since the last game.

Bobby filled the ice bucket and they sat down to begin the game. "Nothing too fancy, please," Will asked Henry, who was dealer. "I have to get back in the swing of the game."

"Understood. We'll start with a simple game of five-card draw."

The game was uneventful for the first hour, with no one gaining a clear advantage. Both Ororo and Bobby had bad runs soon after, however, and they both had to drop out. Logan, who considered himself the best player on the team, spent his time observing Will.

The man was a statue. Neither his face nor his eyes betrayed any emotion. He simply maintained a bored expression, regardless of the status of his hand. He didn't fold often, usually choosing to see the bet. He soon bankrupted Henry, and took a good bite out of Rogue's pot. "All's fair in love and poker," he said blandly when Rogue attempted to sway him against wiping her out by batting her eyes at him.

"You and I are going to have a _long_ talk later," she warned him. She got some small measure of satisfaction from seeing the look of panic on his face.

Henry dropped out soon after, with Rogue following, since she needed some spending money for the week, and she had a personal rule against living beyond the means that the Professor's generous stipend provided. She stayed at the table to watch, however, since she had become fascinated by the interplay between Will and Logan.

After a few rounds of small bets, Will placed his pot in the middle of the table.

"We haven't even dealt yet," Logan objected.

"I know," Will replied blandly, taking a draw off his cigar. "I'm still betting everything."

Logan shrugged and dealt. They each took two cards.

"I call," Will declared.

Logan placed his cards on the table. "Two pair. Kings and jacks."

Will looked at his cards and grimaced. "I get this hand in every game I've played in the past ten years. I think it's one of life's little jokes on me." He showed his cards. "Full house - aces and eights."

"Dead man's hand," Logan confirmed.

"Come to Papa," Will said, gathering the chips. "Bobby, you're in charge of cashing these in."

"Why me?"

"Simple. You're an accountant, and I need a financial advisor to keep my checkbook balanced."

A few minutes later, Bobby had determined the total. "Two thousand dollars," he said, handing Will the money.

"Not a bad haul."

"Great," Rogue groused. "The one guy here who's super rich gets all the money."

"You're not the type to hold a grudge, are you?" Will asked, leaning over her shoulder.

"I'm not talking to you." She wasn't really mad, but she was grouchy over losing so badly, and needed someone to take it out on.

They cleaned up after themselves and got back in the van. "I thought you said your game was rusty," Logan remarked to Will as they started back.

Will shrugged. "I lied. I do that sometimes."

* * *

As Rogue readied for bed, she followed her usual ritual of cleaning out her pockets. It was a habit that had become ingrained in her back when she was living with Mystique and Destiny: keep everything that you need for daily life near you, in case you have to run.

As she rummaged through her jacket, she felt a small lump in the inside pocket. She reached in and pulled out the roll of bills that Bobby had given Will at the game. She looked at it for a moment, confused, then went to Will's room and knocked on the door, opening it at his request.

He was in bed, reading. "Problem?" he asked her.

"You put this in my jacket by mistake," she said, handing the money to him.

"No I didn't."

"You didn't put it there?"

"I didn't do it by mistake. _I_ certainly don't need the money."

Rogue threw the roll at him, scattering bills all over the place. "Keep your damn money," she snapped, as she strode out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Will stared at the door for a moment, stunned. He then got up and gathered up the bills, placing them on his dresser, and went to bed, a worried expression on his face.

* * *

"Morning, Warren," Rogue said the next morning.

"Good morning yourself. Do you want pancakes?"

"Just cereal for me, thanks," she said as she dug out a bowl from the cupboard. She looked at him as she sat down. "Why isn't Will cooking?"

"He wasn't here when I came down, so I started without him. Maybe he overslept."

"He didn't," Logan informed them as he walked in. "He's in the Danger Room, doing a solo session." He looked at her. "Did you two have a fight last night? He seemed pretty upset."

"Yeah," she growled. "He slipped his pot from last night into my jacket while I wasn't looking."

Warren looked at her. "You got mad at him for that?"

"Mystique used to do the same thing to me all the time. She'd take care of things for me, then make me feel like I couldn't do it on my own. He just upset me, that's all. I guess I was a bit immature about it," she admitted, after thinking about it for a moment.

"Have you told _him_ that yet?" Logan asked.

"No. I'll talk with him after he's done."

"Let's get that done now, then," Warren said as he tapped the interface to the mansion computer. "Computer, is Archetype finished with his training session yet?"

"_Negative. Designate: Archetype is currently engaged in training program: Hellfire."_

Rogue, Logan, and Warren all stopped breathing for a moment. Hellfire was one of the toughest solo programs that the Danger Room could offer. It hadn't been used in months because of the injury rate it tended to produce.

"Computer," Logan said calmly, "what's the difficulty level right now?" _As long as he's below twenty, he should be okay_, he thought to himself.

"_Current difficulty level: Ninety. Danger level: Lethal_."

They all looked at one another, then ran for the elevator.

* * *

The amount of noise that assaulted their ears as the elevator doors opened told them all they needed to know. The Danger Room was doing its level best to kill Will.

Rogue ran to the observation port. "Can you see him?" she asked Logan and Warren.

"Over there," Warren said, pointing.

Will was engaged with one of the battle droids that were designed to carry a multitude of armaments. This particular one had an ax-shaped protrusion attached to its right arm, and was swinging it at him.

Will grabbed the arm and teleported it off the robot, then swung the arm at the robot's head, tearing it off. He wasn't able to avoid the robot behind him, though, and took a laser shot that went straight through him.

Warren and Rogue gasped at the damage that Will was taking, but he seemed to ignore it. He grabbed his sword from the floor and hurled it at the robot's head, pinning it against the wall. He then turned to deal with a group of smaller robots that pounced on him. He kicked and punched his way through them, then grabbed one by the base and swung it at the others, smashing them.

"He's a mess," Warren observed. Indeed, Will was bleeding from several places, and still had a scrap of metal embedded in his right leg. His eyes, however, were glowing brightly, and the look on his face was savage.

"Computer, end program," Logan said tersely. The robots vanished, the gravity fields that had created them dissipating.

Will looked around the room wildly for a moment, then glanced up at the observation booth, finally noticing his audience. His eyes dimmed slightly, and he strode out of the room, favoring his uninjured leg, without saying a word.

"Computer, how was Archetype able to avoid the safety failsafes?" Warren asked.

"_Program: Hellfire activated with progressive difficulty and danger level enhancement commensurate with time elapsed."_

"It got tougher the longer he was in it," Logan translated. "Computer, what time was the program activated?"

"_0337 hours."_

"He was at that for four hours?" Rogue asked, incredulous.

"_Confirmed."_

"I wasn't asking you."

They went to the showers to confront him, but found that he wasn't there. The piece of shrapnel that had been in his leg lay on the floor. Rogue picked it up. "He was ignoring _this_?" she asked, worried.

Logan took it from her. "Warren, go back to the Danger Room and erase the records of that session."

Warren nodded. "Are you sure about that?"

"I don't want Scott or Chuck hearing about this until we've got some answers. Come on," he said to Rogue. "Let's go find him."

He was outside, running. He didn't seem to be using his enhanced speed, but was moving very quickly. They lost sight of him just as he entered the woods. "What is _with_ him?" Rogue asked.

"He's mad, and he's working it off."

"He got that mad over an argument?"

"Maybe you set him off about something else without knowing it."

"Maybe," she admitted. "I'm gonna have to talk with him - if I can get him to sit still."

That proved to be difficult, since she and Logan both had solo sessions that morning, and Will didn't show up for lunch. "That's it," Logan told Rogue under his breath as they got up from the table, "now I'm worried."

"We can't use Cerebro," she mused. "Think Betsy can keep this quiet?"

"Probably."

Will walked in a moment later, dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, his eyes still glowing. "Hi, Will," Bobby said cheerfully as he cleaned up. "Sorry, but we killed everything already."

"Where's Storm?" Will asked him without preamble. His face was distant, and he didn't seem to be paying attention to what was going on.

"She's doing the dishes," Bobby informed him, thumbing back towards the kitchen, where soft music could be heard.

Will nodded absently and went to see her. "Storm, I'd advise you to keep the X-Men on alert for the next few hours."

Ororo looked at him carefully. "Why?" Her tone showed that she took him seriously, but she needed more information.

"Something big is going to happen."

"Can you give me anything more than that?"

"Not yet. I think that it'll happen closer to evening."

Ororo thought about that for a moment. Even if he were wrong, it couldn't hurt to make sure that everyone was prepared for an emergency. It would be a good practice drill, if nothing else. "I will consider it," she informed Will.

He nodded in approval, then started out of the kitchen. As he walked past the radio, the signal burst into static, and it shorted out in a hail of sparks.

"Sorry," he told her, embarrassed.

"Not a problem." She looked at him for a moment. "Are you going outside again today? Things are predicted to become severe today."

He looked at her. "I know," he said as he left the room.

Somehow, Ororo didn't think he was talking about the weather.

* * *

"Will?"

He sighed. "Yes, Rogue?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"For what? I'm the one who insulted you." He didn't turn to face her, but continued to look out the window of the study hall.

"No you didn't," she insisted. "It's just that Mystique used to send me money, whether I wanted it or not, until I told her to stop. She always included a note with the money that hinted that I couldn't take care of myself. You just surprised me for a moment, and I flashed back to that point in my life for a second. It really wasn't anything you did, and I had no right to snap at you."

He nodded.

"Will, what's wrong?" she asked. "You've been acting weird all day."

"The Chorus is trying to tell me something, and I can't figure out what it is.'' He turned to look at her. His eyes were glowing so brightly now that they were illuminating his face. "I'll be on the roof," he told her, and disappeared.

* * *

Jean rubbed her eyes as she stared at the holographic globe in the War Room. She hadn't slept well the night before, and had a good idea of the reason why.

That reason walked in, as if on cue. "Hello, Will," she said. "You kept me up last night."

"Did I? I'm sorry. My powers have been driving me crazy since midnight." The hologram flickered slightly as he drew near.

"So I see. Any idea why?"

"That's what I'm here to find out. Do you have any paper maps around here?"

"Sure," she said, getting up. "Do you want a world map?"

"Yes, please."

As she rummaged through the files for the appropriate map, Jean noticed that Will was manipulating something in his right hand. "What's that?" she asked him as she handed him the map.

"Chinese exercise balls," he explained. "They help me concentrate." He put them down on the table, causing them to chime lightly.

Jean picked them up. "I think Logan has a set of these."

Will nodded, not saying anything, as he unfolded the map. "May I have one of them, please?"

She handed the metal sphere to him, and he placed it on the map, then put his palm over it lightly. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, then raised his hand off the ball by about an inch.

Jean felt the rush of psychic energy that she had come to associate with Will's power, but decided to delay raising her shields. This was a golden opportunity to discover just how his powers worked.

The sphere started moving, tracing its way along the map. Will kept his hand over it, listening to the song in his head. Jean tried to listen as well, but couldn't make any sense out of it.

After a few moments, he placed his finger on the sphere, stopping its motion. "Look at what's underneath, and get me a more detailed map of that area. Don't tell me where it is. I don't want anything influencing me." He never opened his eyes.

Jean looked at the map, seeing that the sphere had settled on the American Pacific coast. She quickly went back to the maps and found one that covered the area in more detail.

After Will had repeated the procedure four more times, they had narrowed the area down to San Francisco, close to the Presidio. "That's it," Will said as he opened his eyes. "I can't get any closer than that."

"How long do we have?"

He rubbed his jaw. "Probably longer than I thought. I've been getting images that suggest late afternoon to early evening. Since it's on the West Coast, that gives us a bit more time."

She nodded, then sent mental signals to Scott, Ororo, and Xavier.

* * *

"That's all you can tell us?" Scott said sarcastically. "Something's going to happen?"

"I got a distress signal," Will snapped back, "not a telegram."

"Scott, please." Xavier said calmly. "Is there anything you can tell us which would warrant sending a team to San Francisco?" he asked, turning to Will.

"All I can tell you is that a lot of people could be hurt. This is going to be _big_."

"What do you mean by big?" Ororo asked him, trying to get a clearer picture and placate Scott at the same time.

Will exhaled sharply, trying to put his intuition into words. "I can only sense what's going to happen in San Francisco, but I got a glimpse of the state of the Chorus just after whatever is going to happen. It was in _agony_, Storm. Unless we do something - and if _you_ don't, _I_ will - there'll be a psychic backlash so severe that it'll damage the entire Chorus, and that means that the whole of humanity will be affected."

Xavier chewed on that for a moment. "Storm, take Bishop, Rogue, Wolverine, Iceman, and Phoenix to San Francisco with you. Keep an open line to here. Leave as soon as you're satisfied that everything's ready."

Ororo got up. "Understood. We should be underway within an hour."

"I'll get in uniform," Will said as he stood up.

"You do that," Scott grumbled.

After Will had left the room, Xavier looked sternly at Scott. "After they've gone, you and I have to have a talk."

* * *

"How are we going to handle this, guys?" Bobby asked as Blackbird Blue sped towards the West Coast. "It's not like we know what we're looking for."

"I brought several image inducers," Ororo informed him. "We will pose as tourists until we have determined any danger."

"What about you?" Bobby asked Will, who was staring into space, an intense look on his face.

"My uniform is subtle enough that most people won't give me a second glance. I'll just remove my bolo tie and pins."

"Good idea," Logan responded. "Have you got anything more for us to work with yet?"

He shook his head. "I've been trying to keep my powers in check until we hit ground. I don't want to risk shorting out the plane."

"I can't argue with that logic," Logan said. "What's our ETA, Jean?"

Jean glanced from the controls to the HUD display. "About three hours."

"Why don't you go in back?" Logan suggested to Will. "Just in case your power flares up again?"

"Good idea. I want something to eat, anyway. Can I get anybody anything?"

They all declined politely and watched him head towards the rear of the plane.

"Why'd you send him back there?" Bobby asked.

"Because him and Rogue need to talk, and I figure this way they get three hours to do it."

"Sneaky," Jean complimented him.

"I do my best, Red."

Rogue saw Will approach as she made another sensor sweep of the surrounding area. "Problem?" she asked.

"I just wanted a sandwich." He slid open the galley door and got one. Glancing at her for approval, he tossed her one, along with a drink. He then sat down at the offensive systems station. "Have you seen anything?"

"Just commercial traffic. Our cloak is keeping us out of sight."

He nodded, glancing at the panels in front of him. "What's a GDU?"

"Genetic Dampening Unit. Sort of a mutant riot control device. It has a range of about fifty feet."

Will tried to commit that to memory.

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"What's got you worried?"

He blew out his breath in frustration. "I don't know. I've got this feeling, that's all. It's like the scent you get in the air just before the lightning strikes, or the stillness in the zoo just before the earthquake hits. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I haven't even heard the first one yet." He took off his hat and plopped it onto the desk.

"It must be annoying," she said sympathetically.

"It's a royal pain in the ass, that's what it is," he growled, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

She had to laugh at that. "How's your pilot training with Warren going?"

"Warren says I'm improving, but I don't think that's saying much, given how I started out. I nose dived that damn simulator four times in a row."

"That's about average, actually. Bobby holds the record."

"Lovely," he said dryly. "Now I have a goal to aim for."

* * *

Two hours later, they placed the Blackbird in hover mode in People's Park and made their way towards the Presidio.

"What's the plan, boss?" Logan asked Ororo.

"Archetype, do you sense anything?"

Will walked a few steps away from them and closed his eyes. "We're close. It's going to happen soon."

"Then we should get there as soon as possible. Can you teleport us?"

"Give me a minute." He stared into space for a few seconds. "Okay. I've got a spot. Let's get out of sight."

They moved into a space between two brownhouses and Will teleported them to an area near the Presidio. "What now?" he asked.

"We split up. You go with Rogue and Wolverine. Bishop, you and Robert will take the north side, while Jean and I will take the south. Stay in contact with one another." They all nodded and started walking.

* * *

"We haven't been here in years," Rogue said as they wandered down the street. "I forgot how gorgeous this city is."

"Who did you fight here?" Will asked.

"Oh, nobody special," she said with a smirk. "Just the Beyonder."

"Who?"

"Do yourself a favor, kid," Logan advised him.

"What's that?"

"Don't ask."

* * *

"Do you sense anything, Jean?"

"Just Will. I have _got_ to teach that man to shield."

"You and Charles have been working with him very closely. What do you think of him?"

Jean thought about that for a moment. "I think that Scott needs to cut him a bit more slack. He's been working very hard, and I don't think that he's going to take much more of Scott's sniping at him."

"I've been meaning to talk to Scott about that," Ororo said in an annoyed voice. "Will has put a lot of effort into trying to fit in among us. Scott has not had one kind word to say to him since he arrived, and I, for one, am tired of it. It is not fair to Rogue, either. She has been caught in the middle, and I care for her too much to let that continue."

"We'll talk about it later," Jean assured her. "For now, let's just keep our eyes open."

"Bish, will you relax? People are starting to stare."

"I am simply being alert."

"Great," Bobby muttered. "The world could always use another lert."

"I don't get it."

"Never mind. By the way, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"If Will's immortal, then maybe he exists in the time you came from. Can you remember anything about him?"

"I have been trying to recall anything I can," Bishop admitted. "However, I don't remember hearing anything about a man called Archetype. That may not mean anything, though. He may have changed his name, or perhaps he was laying low during my era. Someone with his sort of power would likely have distanced himself from the conflicts of my time, so that he could reduce any risk of psychic damage."

"Good point." Bobby looked around at the city. "You know, if I ever decide to retire from the X-Men, I just might consider moving here. This city is fantastic. What about you?"

"A coastal location would be too hard to defend."

"That's not what I meant. Haven't you ever thought about what you're going to do after you leave the X-Men?"

"I have no intention of leaving."

"You're still going to be shooting people when you're sixty-five?"

Bishop's response was a rare smile. "You're far more optimistic about your future than I am, Robert. I really don't expect to make it that far."

"Wait a minute," Bobby replied in a stern voice as he restrained Bishop by the arm, stopping him. "You really mean that, don't you? Is that all you think you have to look forward to - fighting for the next few years, and then buying the farm? That's not living, Bish, and if you think it is, then you're as dead as the future you're trying so hard to avoid."

Bishop looked shocked for a moment. "Do I really seem like that to you?"

Bobby had the grace to look remorseful. "Well, I was a little overboard, but I do think that you carry the grim and gritty riff a bit too far. You can't just fight against things all your life. Eventually, you have to find something to fight for."

Bishop looked thoughtful. "Thank you, Robert. You've given me something to consider.

"But for now," he said as he became watchful again, "we have work to do."

* * *

"You seen anything, Jeannie?"

_"Nothing yet, Logan."_

"Well, keep your mind open. We'll do another sweep."

_"Right."_

Rogue walked back from the snack cart and handed Logan a hot dog and fries. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He looked at Will, who was sitting on a bench a few feet away, staring into space. "Think he screwed up?"

"I don't know. He said himself that he's not always right."

"Do we call it quits, then?"

"Let's see what he thinks." They started walking over to him, but he stood up suddenly, his eyes intense. His face hardened, and he pulled his sword out from under his coat.

"They're coming," he growled.

A sudden wind picked up, blowing papers and trash along the street. Logan picked up a sharp smell of ozone. Both he and Rogue recognized the telltale signature of a teleporter.

"Who is it?" Rogue asked.

They got their answer a moment later, as two outlines formed within the glowing circle.

"Oh, hell," Rogue muttered. "Apocalypse's Horsemen."


	22. Chapter 22

Abraham Lincoln Kieros was a broken man. He was helpless. He was weak.

Then Apocalypse came, and made him strong again.

He had been a soldier once, a lifetime ago, weaving his way through a foreign jungle to serve the needs of men who he never met, and shooting men who he had no quarrel with.

He didn't care.

He loved it.

But a hidden tripwire and a homemade grenade ended his military career, trapping him in a metal cocoon, a living death which was a constant agony. He lay there for years, his anger and resentment growing. All he had to think about was his glory days as a warrior, the thrill of combat, and the heroism of the dying. After enough time, he forgot about the boredom, the terror, and the horror.

Apocalypse came in the night and took him, then showed him that the pain that he had endured before was nothing. He took a parlor trick that Kieros thought was a good way to win a few extra drinks at a bar and amplified it to a phenomenal degree, making him capable of incredible destruction.

He became Apocalypse's dark paladin, flying through the air on a golden steed. He found new comrades, and knew that he had found his new purpose in life. He became what he was born for.

He was War.

But Apocalypse found new amusements, new obsessions. A man with one glowing eye now occupied all of his attention. War, who had always been faithful to him, was pushed aside in favor of a ragged group of men who were charged with determining just who the strong were.

War was intent on regaining the good graces of Apocalypse. After studying the massive amounts of records that were kept in the various bases that Apocalypse maintained, and learning how to control his power even more, he found the way.

The X-Men.

And one X-Man in particular.

The child was not hard to convince. She had been humiliated in her last encounter with those who followed Xavier's foolish dream, and had also sought greater mastery of her power, in order to ensure their victory.

They had planned to attract the attention of the X-Men by creating random chaos in a major city. They chose San Francisco because it would allow them to maximize their destruction, since the X-Men were based on the East Coast.

What they hadn't counted on was having the X-Men waiting for them when they got there.

* * *

"Jean, Bobby, get over here!" Logan barked into his communicator. "It's War and Famine!"

He turned to Rogue and Archetype. "Rogue, you take War. Rookie, you're with..." His face trailed off as he saw Archetype.

His burning eyes were glaring at both of the Horsemen, and his grip on his sword tightened. Logan could catch a whiff of his scent, and detected a hint of the rage that was present during his Danger Room session earlier that day.

"Get a grip, rookie!" he barked at him. "Famine is ours!"

Archetype nodded and vanished, reappearing on Famine's steed, grabbing her in a full nelson.

"What do you say to ending this before it gets violent?" he asked her before throwing her to the ground.

Famine glared at him, and the skin on Archetype's face tightened as her power took effect. He staggered slightly, but that was all. "My dear, you could starve me all day and it still wouldn't kill me." His eyes flashed, and he teleported Famine a few times, knocking her out.

Logan was impressed. "Good job."

Archetype tipped his hat to Logan in acknowledgment, then whirled as he heard an explosion behind him.

* * *

Rogue was not doing well against War. Their conflict had gone airborne, and every time she drew near him, he set off an explosion which threw her back. The explosions didn't hurt her, but stung like hell, and were starting to get on her nerves.

She was considering throwing something at him when she noticed that large parts of his steed were disappearing. She looked down at Archetype, and realized that he was teleporting them away in an attempt to ground War.

War started to panic when he realized what was happening, and jumped off the machine before it hit ground, rolling. He was on his feet a few seconds later, but Archetype pounced on him, grabbing War by the wrists and keeping his hands apart, effectively neutralizing his power. "Rogue, I could use a hand here!" he yelled.

Rogue dived down and took over, pinning War to the ground. "Smart move," she said approvingly to Archetype.

War shifted ineffectually in Rogue's grip, cursing.

"Now that's no language to use in front of a lady," Archetype said in a conversational tone.

"You weren't supposed to be here!" War spat. "How did you know?"

"You're not the only ones with outside sources," Logan informed him as he stood over him, claws extended. "Now what's this all about?"

"Go to hell," War retorted.

"Not much of a conversationalist, is he?" Archetype commented.

War glared at him. "This is your fault!"

"Now that's a childish response," Archetype responded in a chiding tone.

War's answering glare burned with hate. "You think this is going to change anything? He's still waiting for you, you damn walking corpse!"

The glow of Archetype's eyes intensified as he grabbed War by the throat and lifted him up. "And I'm waiting for him," he growled.

"You're a dead man," War muttered.

"Not anymore," Archetype replied grimly as he signaled Rogue to grab War again.

War took that moment to break free from Archetype's grip and activate his teleporter. Famine vanished at the same time.

"They must have been linked," Logan commented.

"Any idea where they went?" Rogue asked Archetype.

He shook his head. "They used a different method than I do." He seemed angry.

"What's your problem?" Logan asked as the others arrived.

"This was too easy." He barely glanced at the other X-Men as they arrived. "I've seen the files on what those two are capable of, and there's no way they should have gone down that quickly."

"We'll talk about it on the trip back," Jean said. "The police will be here in a few minutes, and we have to be gone by then."

"No problem." His eyes flashed, and they were back in Peoples Park, under one of the covered picnic areas.

As they walked back to the Blackbird, Bobby looked at Will closely. "You okay?"

Will nodded. "For now. Can you do me a favor when we get back?"

"Sure."

"Help me find a restaurant with an all-you-can-eat special. I'm going to drive the poor people into bankruptcy."

* * *

Most of the team slept on the way back to Westchester, since their bodies had never adjusted to Pacific time. Bishop flew the Blackbird, keeping an eye out for any commercial traffic. He had been trained by the XSE to stay awake for extended periods of time, and thus was not as drained as the others.

Rogue sat across from Will, both of them exhausted from the long day, but unable to sleep. She looked at him closely, worrying about the lines of fatigue on his face and the haggard appearance of his body.

"Problem?" he asked her in a soft whisper.

"You look like hell."

He shrugged. "I'll recover. I always do."

"Stop that!" she snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Stop acting like being hurt is something that's inevitable. Do you think I like watching you bleed?"

"Sorry," he said, abashed. "It's happened to me so often that I'm sort of used to it."

"You're getting used to pain?"

He shook his head. "You don't understand. Compared to what happened to me the first time, this was nothing."

Her jaw dropped. "You mean you remember all that?"

He nodded sadly. "Sort of. It's really not very distinct to me. The pain made things a bit hazy. If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it."

She nodded in response. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"Too risky. I'm trying to keep my powers contained. If I start healing while we're airborne, I could fry the plane." He dug into the pocket on the side of the chair and pulled out a paperback. "I'll wake you when we're nearly there." he informed her.

"Okay," she said, her expression worried. She was asleep a moment later.

* * *

"And they simply vanished?" Xavier asked at their debriefing two hours later.

Jean nodded. "The power signature on the teleport was Apocalypse's."

"And you couldn't track them?" Henry asked Archetype politely.

"I think that their method involved quantum state tunneling rather than dimensional flux. I can't track something like that."

Henry pondered that a moment, nodding. "That narrows it down a bit at least. How is everyone physically?" he asked the team.

"He was the only one who took any damage," Bobby said, nodding towards Archetype.

"I'm fine, Doctor," Archetype said before Henry could speak. "I just need food and sleep - in that order."

"I'll look at you when you're up, then. Can you think of anything else, Charles?"

"No. Get some rest, everyone. You all have forty-eight hours of leave."

"We're going out to eat, Bobby," Rogue said as they got up. "Care to come along?"

"Who's buying?"

"I am," Will said.

"I'll drive."

* * *

The truck stop was nearly deserted, and they were seated in a booth in a matter of minutes. "Let's see," Will said to the waitress as he opened his menu, "I'll have the chicken fried steak special with the soup and salad bar, please. And three pitchers of Coke, as well."

"I'll have the turkey and stuffing," Bobby added.

"And I'll have the shepherd's pie," Rogue said.

After Will came back with a bowl of soup and a salad plate piled with everything from potato salad to orange gelatin, the waitress came back with their meals. Rogue and Bobby were stunned by the amount of food that Will was putting away. "How can you eat all that?" Bobby finally asked.

"Most of this is going to be burned away while I'm asleep," was Will's answer. "Besides, Famine hit me pretty hard. I've been ravenous since we left San Francisco."

"What did War mean when he said that Apocalypse was waiting for you?" Rogue asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "My best guess is that Apocalypse had some information about me. I don't see how, though."

"There's that video file that Val had," she reminded him.

"That's true," he conceded.

"I say we stop talking about work," Bobby interjected. "We're off duty, remember?"

"Good point," Rogue agreed, noticing the fatigue in Will's face. "We should get home."

"Not without dessert," Will said firmly.

* * *

Rogue went straight to bed once they returned, since the large meal had made her drowsy. Her sleep was troubled, however, because she caught fragments of Will's healing state in her dreams. She finally got out of bed, frustrated, and marched off to his room. If his powers were going to be this distracting, she decided, than maybe he could heal at another location.

"Will," she said, knocking on the door, "you've got to get up." The door opened at her knock. It did not seem to have been tightly closed.

"Will?" she repeated, turning on the light.

His bed was empty, as was the room. She frowned, then went back to her room, turning on the computer and running a location search for him.

She entered the study hall of the men's wing a minute later, turned on the lamp, then did a double take. Will was standing in front of the main window, his back to her, totally nude.

"Uh, Will," she said tentatively, "don't you think you should put something on?"

He didn't answer her. She moved over to the other side of the room, searching his face carefully, noticing the glow in his eyes. It was clear to her in a moment that he wouldn't hear anything that she said. She thought a moment, then went to his room, grabbed his robe, and came back, draping it over his shoulders. She then sat down in a chair and watched him, waiting.

After a few minutes, she heard the rumble of distant thunder. She looked out the window and saw that storm clouds were moving in from the southeast at a rapid pace. It seemed like a solid wall of cloud covered the sky in a few short minutes.

"You're out there somewhere," Will said in a low voice which was almost a whisper. His voice was strangely abstracted, as if he was leaving a message on a machine. "You're out there, and you're waiting for me."

He smiled wryly. "Well, I'm waiting for you, too."

"You know what's going to happen just as well as I do. It doesn't matter how many people you throw between us. It doesn't matter how much you try to avoid it. It doesn't matter how much you run. In the end, it's just you and me."

A moment later, lightning struck just outside the mansion. Rogue jumped at the sudden clap of thunder. The noises she heard outside the room told he that the other X-Men had been awakened.

Logan strode in a moment later, clad in one of his kimonos. "What the hell..." he growled. Rogue waved him to silence.

"Know this, En Sabeh Nur," Will said in a menacing tone, his voice acquiring the same echoing timbre that Rogue had noticed at Glastonbury, "I stand against you, from now until the end of days. I will feel your blood on my hands and your weight on my blade. I will crush your dreams and leave them to wither in the dust. And when your time comes, I will be the one to send you to the reward that awaits you."

The lightning struck again, closer to the mansion this time, and Rogue could feel the boom of the thunder through the window.

"Who am I?" Will said softly. "You already know."

"I am the Archetype. I am the Cornerstone. _I. Am. Your. Death_."

The answering thunder strike shattered every window in the mansion.

* * *

"And he went right back to bed?" Ororo asked incredulously. Both teams were assembled in the War Room, most of them still in their nightclothes.

"He's out like a light," Logan confirmed. "I'm not entirely sure he was awake, 'Roro. He may've been sleepwalking."

"That might explain why he wasn't dressed," Betsy added.

"Those were his exact words?" Xavier pressed.

"'I am your death,'" Rogue confirmed. "Professor, could he do that?" Her face showed a dawning fear. "Is he powerful enough to actually kill Apocalypse?"

He shook his head. "Not from what I've seen so far."

"We should keep in mind that he never said _when_ any of this would happen," Jean pointed out. "From what we've seen of him up to now, I've got a feeling that he's going to be around for a very long time. The things that he was talking about may not occur for centuries. That might give him enough time to become a threat to Apocalypse."

"That's certainly possible," Xavier conceded.

"There's something else we should consider," Henry mused. "According to what we've observed so far, we know that his power, at higher levels, causes the disruption of advanced technology. That would serve as a highly effective defense against the weaponry that Apocalypse seems so fond of using, neutralizing one of his greatest advantages."

"Good point," Warren noted. "Every time we've come up against him, Apocalypse has always softened us up with some kind of gadget before dealing with us himself."

"We should keep Jean's theory in mind," Bishop said. "I don't remember any major battles involving Apocalypse from my day."

"But Archetype's simply being here may mean that we've already diverged from your history, Bish," Bobby informed him.

"I don't think we're going to get anything done at this hour," Xavier noted. "We'll talk about it in the morning. It might be a good idea to see just how much of his little speech Will remembers."

As they all headed back to their rooms, Rogue stayed behind. "Professor," she asked, "can I talk to you alone for a few minutes?"

"Of course," he answered. "Why don't we go to my room?"

"Why, Professor!" she exclaimed in feigned shock.

"Please don't, Rogue," he answered in a pained voice. "It's been a long day."

"Sorry," she apologized as they waited for the elevator.

They were silent until they entered Xavier's bedroom. "Just give me a minute to get back in bed," he requested.

She nodded, sitting down in a chair. She knew better than to offer her assistance. Piotr had done so once, when she had recently joined the team, and the tongue-lashing that he had received in return was still considered the stuff of legend.

"All right," Xavier said as he straightened the sheets, "what's troubling you, Rogue?"

"It's Will. I think he's pushing himself too hard. When he and I were talking on the trip back from San Francisco, he treated his injuries like they were nothing. No," she corrected herself, "that's not quite right. He treated them like they were something to be endured, not avoided. It's like he doesn't have a self-preservation instinct. Logan told me that he thought Will is so devoted to his ideals, he might hurt himself to prove his loyalty to them."

Xavier frowned a moment, lost in thought. "I may have to do something that I've been reluctant to consider," he admitted.

"What's that?"

"My background checks on Will have found that he saw a therapist on a regular basis before his accident. I could ask him to release his file to me as a professional courtesy."

"Could he do that?"

"Technically, Will is under my care, and he's already given me permission to share information about him as long as I'm discreet. I think I'd need his verbal permission for this, though. I'll have to look into it."

"Does the fact that he's seen a therapist before worry you at all?"

He shook his head. "He has a counseling degree, remember? Many programs in that field require their students to undergo counseling themselves as a way of relieving the stress that the job places on the mind."

She nodded. "What's your honest opinion of him, Professor?"

Xavier sighed. "I really don't have an answer to give you yet. The man is so contradictory that he has me totally confused."

"You and me both. Sometimes I feel like I'm dealing with two different men."

"You may very well be, Rogue. Will Riley and Archetype seem to be two very different people."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it a moment. How has he been acting since yesterday?"

"He's been distant, cold, aggressive, and overall, not very nice. Well, he's been nice to _me,_" she amended.

"Has he been like this before?"

"Not that I've seen."

"I think that when what he calls 'The Chorus' is very active in him, his personality changes as a result. The mental impressions that I've been getting from him over the past two days have been markedly different from what I usually feel."

"In what way?"

"Usually, I get waves of chaos and confusion, like what I used to get from Kitty. Since that little encounter in the kitchen with Ororo, however, I can't get through at all. It's like every shield the man possesses has been raised."

"Do you think he's trying to hide something?"

"Yes, but not from me."

"From Apocalypse, then?"

"Probably." He yawned. "I'm sorry, Rogue, but I have to get back to sleep."

"What are you going to do about the windows?"

"We'll construct some new ones in the morning. Just clean up the mess and go to bed. I've got a feeling that tomorrow's going to be a long day."

* * *

"I _what_?"

"You told Apocalypse you were going to kill him," Rogue repeated patiently.

"And then all the windows shattered," Will said, acting as if he was waiting for the joke to end.

"That's right," Logan confirmed.

Will put his hand to his temple. "I'm not saying that I don't believe you, but I don't remember any of this."

"We think you were sleepwalking," Xavier informed him.

Will considered that for a moment. "I was acting out a dream? There's a thought."

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

"The last thing I remember is going to bed."

"Charles and I will see if we can get anything during your next session with us," Jean informed him.

"I'd appreciate it," Will replied. He glanced at the kitchen. "I'd better get started on breakfast."

"You're off duty, remember?" Xavier reminded him.

"Damn, I'd forgotten that. Well, in that case, I'm going back to bed."

"Not just yet," Henry told him. "I want to give you your physical first."

After Henry declared him fit for duty, Will went straight to bed and slept for six hours. After taking a quick shower, he dressed in jeans, a banded collar shirt, and a vest, and went looking for Rogue and Ororo.

"Storm," he asked, "are you on duty right now?"

"No," she replied. "I am free until night watch. Why?"

"I have to go into New York to get some things for the service that I told you about earlier. I was wondering if you'd like to join me."

"That would be nice," Ororo said, standing up. "Just let me get my purse."

"Can I come along?" Rogue asked.

"Sure," he shrugged.

Ten minutes later, Ororo pulled the Volvo sedan out of the garage, and they were on their way. "Which exit should we take?" Ororo asked Will once they were on the main highway to New York City.

He frowned. "I really don't know. The place we want is on the three hundred block of East Ninth Street, if that's any help."

Ororo thought a moment. "All right. I think I know a way to get there."

An hour later, they found a spot in a parking garage and walked the rest of the way towards the store. As they were about to enter, Will stopped them for a moment.

"Just thought you should know," he said. "Some of the people who come here tend to be a little on the flaky side. We may be in here a little while, so just prepare yourselves." He opened the door.

They were instantly assaulted by the smell of incense in the air and music which they took to be Indian over a speaker on one wall. "Good afternoon," the woman at the counter said in a pleasant voice, "can I help you with anything?"

"We'd like to look around for a while first, if that's all right," Will replied with a smile.

"Of course. I'm Crystal. Let me know if you need any help."

"Thank you." Will led them back towards the rear of the store, scanning the bookshelves as he did so. "Just wander around if you like," he told Ororo and Rogue. "I'll be looking through the books for a while. Ororo, I usually use incense in my services. You might want to look through the racks back there and see if there's anything that you like."

"Good idea," Ororo agreed. She spent the next few minutes comparing the various scents, finally deciding on sandalwood and rose.

Rogue, meanwhile, looked at the various items of jewelry in the cases, finally choosing what the tag called a fairy ball. It was a small silver sphere containing tiny chimes which tinkled softly whenever the sphere moved. She paid a few cents more to have it hung on a green silk cord.

A few minutes later, Will decided that he had everything he needed. After he talked to Ororo regarding her choices of incense, adding pine to her selections, he started to make his way towards the front counter. He was blocked, however, by a woman who appeared to be in her early fifties.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "but I just had to talk with you for a minute. Did you know you have an incredibly strong aura?"

"I wasn't aware of it, no," Will replied in a bemused voice.

The woman started moving towards Will, then, seeing his discomfort at such proximity, stepped back. "I could see it from across the room. I've never seen a purple that strong before."

"Purple, you say?" Will asked, raising one eyebrow.

"I had to look twice to make sure I was seeing it correctly. You've got a lot of untapped potential."

"So everyone keeps telling me," he said wryly. "Nice talking to you." He nodded to her respectfully and continued on his way, meeting Rogue and Ororo at the counter.

"What was that all about?" Rogue asked him as he paid for his purchases.

"Ask Xavier," he suggested. "I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

* * *

"Purple? You're sure she said purple?" Xavier asked her when they had returned.

"That's right," Rogue confirmed.

Xavier frowned for a minute, rubbing his chin. "I'll have to look something up," he said as his chair started floating towards the library. After a few minutes of searching through the shelves, he pulled a rather battered hardback off the shelves. "A book on auras and the chakras," he explained. "I picked it up back when I was a world traveler, before I founded the X-Men."

After leafing through the book for a while, he found what he was looking for. "Here we are. According to this, the purple chakra is associated with the spiritual world."

"That would make sense," Ororo commented.

"It's also associated with inspiration and insight."

"He told me once that he's been a writer," Rogue offered. "Could that be a connection?"

"Maybe," Xavier admitted. "It's something to think about, at least."

"Did he mention the service that he was planning to you yet?" Ororo asked.

He nodded. "I told him that it wouldn't be a problem, as long as he cleans up after himself. He'll be making a small fire, but he said it'll be contained."

"And I can put it out if necessary."

"What's he doing now?"

"He's helping Hank with dinner."

* * *

"Bobby," Henry complained as Will walked in, "I told you I wanted medium _clams_, not medium _shrimp_!"

"I'm sorry, Hank, but they were out of clams. I thought that maybe you could modify the recipe."

"You can," Will supplied.

"I can?" Henry asked with a frown.

Will nodded. "Bobby, are those plum tomatoes that I bought still in the refrigerator?"

Bobby checked. "Right here."

"Good. Hank, could you peel the shrimp, please?"

"All right," Henry agreed. "What are you planning?"

"You'll see," Will replied as he sifted through the spice cabinet. He diced the tomatoes, then placed a large pot of water on the stove, placing two boxes of linguini next to it.

"What you'll want to do, Hank, is steam the shrimp, then place the cooked pasta in a pot along with the shrimp, the tomatoes, and a cup of white wine. Mix everything up, then cook it until everything's hot."

"How much seasoning should I put in?"

"Put in a pinch each of salt and cayenne pepper."

"All right. Where did you learn this recipe?"

"I just made it up."

* * *

"Great dinner, guys," Logan burped as he pushed his plate away. "Did Will help you out at all?"

"I didn't cook a thing."

"You're kidding."

"It's the absolute truth."

* * *

"Will?"

"Yes, Rogue?" he asked as he looked up from his writing pad.

"Can I come to your service?"

"If you'd like," he shrugged. "I didn't think you'd be interested."

"I thought it might be a way to get to know you a little better," she said as she sat beside him in one of the alcoves of the study hall.

"How do you mean?"

"I'm becoming convinced that you don't see the world the way the rest of us do. Maybe this can give me some idea of what things are like for you."

"Maybe," he agreed.

"Have you remembered anything from the other night?"

He shook his head. "I wish I did. It sounded pretty interesting."

"Were Jean and the Professor able to find anything?"

"They couldn't even get past my defenses. I think that Xavier is starting to get annoyed."

"Sometimes the Professor gets a bit arrogant. You're teaching him a bit of humility."

"He needed that arrogance, Rogue. You don't build up a fortune, start a school, and develop a strike force by being humble."

"Good point. What are you working on?"

"Just putting together some ideas for a story."

"You're still writing? Where do you find the time?"

"I try to make the time. I have to write every now and then."

"Back when I was with the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants..."

"And you could say that with a straight face..."

"Hush. Pyro - his real name's St. John - was a writer. He was pretty popular, as I remember. He said that writing was a painful process, but that it was more painful not to write."

"He stole that from Heinlein. He was right, though."

"Have you ever had anything published?"

"Nothing that I'll admit to."

"That bad?"

"For a while I was cranking out some really awful stuff just to pay the bills, back when I had to build up a nest egg to start my investing."

"Are you up to doing anything tonight?"

"I'm a little tired, to be honest. I'll probably be heading to bed soon."

She nodded. "How's your writing coming along?"

"Slowly. This latest chapter's been driving me crazy. I'm just going to sleep on it and see what I come up with in the morning."

"What did that woman at the bookstore mean?" she asked suddenly.

"Every once in a while, I run into a mystic who tells me that I've got some sort of destiny to fulfill. I just humor them, then get on with my life."

"Isn't that a little risky?"

"It keeps me on my toes. Besides, if I worry about things too much, I'll drive myself crazy. I'll just deal with things as they happen." He yawned. "I think I'll hit that bed now."

"Can you promise me something before you do?"

"It depends on what you want."

"Tell me if you're having any problems. We _are_ supposed to be a couple, remember? I want us to be able to share things with one another."

He was silent for a moment. "I'll try," he replied, "but I don't know how well I can keep that promise. I've been keeping some of my secrets for a long time, and it's second nature to me by now."

"I understand. Good night." She smiled as she watched him leave the room.


	23. Chapter 23

The next morning, Rogue was awakened by a knock on her door. "What?" she said crossly, cranky at being up early.

"You'd better get down to the kitchen," Warren's voice said through the door.

"What's the problem?"

"Something's wrong with Will."

* * *

Logan and Bishop prudently stood just outside the kitchen as Rogue and Warren arrived. "What's going on?" she asked.

"As best as we can tell, Rogue," Bishop replied, "his powers are in overdrive."

Rogue peered into the kitchen, which was illuminated only by the sunlight coming in through the curtained windows. The overhead florescent fixture was raining sparks onto the floor. The blender had also burned out, spreading smoke throughout the kitchen. Normally, this would have set off the smoke alarm, but that had shorted out as well, and was hanging precariously by one of its support hooks.

Will was standing in front of the stove, busily making flapjacks. His face was contorted in a grimace of concentration, and his hands were trembling. His eyes were glowing even more brightly than anything Rogue had seen yet.

"Thank God the stove doesn't have an electric pilot," Rogue muttered. "He could have blown up half the mansion."

"I hadn't even thought of that," Logan admitted.

"Has anybody tried talking with him yet?"

"We've been debating the wisdom of that course of action," Bishop commented. "He was slicing the hash browns with a bit too much vigor for my comfort."

"Don't be a bunch of babies," Rogue said scathingly as she entered the kitchen.

Will glanced at her as she walked in, but said nothing.

"Morning, Will!" she said cheerfully as she walked over to the refrigerator, which, she noticed as she opened it, had also burned out. "Do you need any help?"

He didn't speak in reply, but instead shook his head.

"Remember that you and Wolvie have a team session today."

Will nodded absently as he put bread in the toaster, which burst into sparks as soon as he depressed the plunger. He simply looked at it, his shoulders slumping.

"You want to take a break?" she asked.

He nodded again, then walked out into the rain.

Bishop, Logan and Warren walked in as he left. Logan stared at the damage. "Chuck is gonna be pissed."

"At least there's no lightning outside," Warren commented. "He won't get charged up any more than he already is."

"We should clean some of this up," Bishop noted. "Cyclops will be angry enough as is stands."

"I agree," Henry replied. "I'll see if I can get the refrigerator active again." He went down to the workshop for his tools.

Fifteen minutes later everything, with the exception of the toaster, was back to normal. Xavier entered just as Henry was replacing the grille on the overhead light. "What happened, Hank?" he asked.

"Will happened."

"I was afraid of that," Xavier sighed. "I could feel his frustration as I was waking up. Where is he now?"

"He went outside," Rogue replied.

* * *

Jean stepped out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry and trying to decide on breakfast. Scott still snored soundly on their bed, since she had prudently turned off the alarm on their clock before stepping into the shower. Scott had destroyed three alarm clocks so far that month, and Jean was getting tired of buying new ones.

After quietly getting dressed, she entered the kitchen and, deciding on eggs and sausage, got the necessary items out of the refrigerator. As she stepped over to the central island which housed the stovetop, she noticed something moving farther down the lakefront. Reaching out with her telepathy, she heard the chaos that she had come to associate with Will's thoughts. There was an element of distress, however, that she couldn't account for.

She stepped outside, creating a telekinetic shield to block the rain, and floated over to where Will sat on a rock, staring at the patterns the rain made as it hit the lake.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

To her surprise, he laughed. There was, however, an edge of hysteria to the laugh which disturbed her.

"Talk about what? I have no idea what's causing this. For the past few days, my mind's been going haywire, and I have absolutely no idea why. I can't string two thoughts together coherently, the Chorus is so loud I can barely hear myself think, and I'm wound up tighter than a cat at a dog show." He grabbed a rock and tossed it into the lake.

Jean thought for a moment. "Has your ADD been bad lately?"

He nodded. "I only got about three hours of sleep last night."

"I might have an idea."

* * *

"You want to try what?" Bobby asked Jean.

"Sensory deprivation," Jean explained. "Since Will can't cut off his external stimuli, we'll try to do it for him."

"We haven't used the tank since you were in training, Jean," Xavier reminded her. "It may not be usable any more."

"There's no harm in checking," Jean replied.

A few minutes later, they all descended down to the medlab. Jean opened the door into the triage area, which hadn't been used since the Morlock Massacre. She grimaced as she realized that the tank had been used as an extra storage shelf, and could barely be seen under all the junk. A quick sweep with her telekinesis cleared off the area. She activated the heater tank, setting the water to 93°F, "This will take a while," she commented.

"What do we do for him until then?" Rogue asked with a worried look on her face.

"We keep him outside, for one," Xavier said. "It might not be a bad idea for him to teleport directly here. If he walks through the high security areas, it could take us weeks to get everything running again."

Henry opened the tank door, then wrinkled his nose. "This thing _definitely_ needs a good scrubbing."

"I'll do it," Ororo volunteered.

"I'll help," Bobby added. Twenty minutes later the tank was spotless.

"Is the water feed still open?" Jean asked.

"Yeah," Logan said, checking. "I'd let it run for a few minutes, though. No telling what crap is in the line after this long." He was proven right when the water which flowed from the pipe was brown with rust. It cleared up after a few minutes, however., and the dirty water was allowed to drain out.

"Hank, do you have any magnesium sulfate in your lab?" Jean asked. "We'll need a ten percent solution."

Henry nodded. "I'll get it. Someone should wake Scott and let him know what's happening."

"I think that it might be best if Scott wasn't told about this until it's a done deal," Warren suggested. He looked at Jean apologetically. "I'm sorry, Jean, but let's face it - Scott doesn't like Will, and it looks like Will has enough to worry about right now without Scott's griping added to the list."

"You're right," she sighed. "I'm going back to the house, and I'll see if I can keep Scott occupied for an hour or so." Then she blushed suddenly. "Forget I said that," she amended quickly as she left the room.

"Is anybody keeping an eye on Will?" Bobby asked.

"He went to his room," Betsy said. "He's tossing and turning on the bed."

"I don't want to sedate him if I can help it," Xavier fretted.

"We'll see how this works first, Charles," Henry said as he returned, carrying a large canister. He measured out a large amount of white powder, placing it in the small mesh pouch by the intake valve. He then checked the thermometer. "This will be ready sooner than Jean thought. We can fill the tank now." A few minutes later, four feet of water was present in the tank.

It took thirty more minutes to raise the water to the proper temperature. "Okay," Henry decided, "we can go get him now."

* * *

Will's condition had worsened while they were away. He lay writhing on his bed, his eyes staring into space. He was shaking violently, and was visibly in pain.

"He looks like a Parkinson's case," Henry remarked clinically.

"I heard that!" Will snapped in reply.

"Sorry," Henry apologized. "The tank's ready. You can go down to the medlab now."

Will opened a Door at floor level and rolled of the bed, falling into it and landing in a sprawl on the floor of the medlab.

Ororo tried to help him up, but he shook her off angrily, standing up on his own and walking to the triage on trembling legs. He ripped his shirt open, sending buttons flying in the process, and pulled it off.

The others got out of his way as he approached the tank. He yanked the door open and glared at them.

Rogue understood immediately. "About face, everybody!"

They all turned around politely while Will finished undressing, and heard him enter the water. His voice, when he spoke, was taut with strain.

"Thank you."

Then the door boomed shut.

* * *

Two days later, Logan relieved Bishop at the watch which they had decided to place so that they could keep an eye on Will. "Anything?" Logan asked.

Bishop shook his head as he replaced the energy cell in his rifle. "Not a sound. Are you sure that it's a good idea to leave him alone for so long?"

"I asked Jean about that. People under sensory deprivation tend to lose track of time. Two days isn't much to worry about."

"What do you think is going through his mind right now?"

Logan shrugged. "Who knows? So long as he's functional when he comes out, it's none of my business."

"That's a pretty blasé attitude to take."

"Not really, it's just that there's nothing I can do about it. He's Charlie's and Jean's department, not mine."

"But what if..."

Bishop was interrupted by the sound of the tank door swinging open.

"Would one of you please hand me a towel?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Will sat in the parlor, showered and changed, while the rest of the X-Men questioned him.

"Do you have any idea of exactly what happened?" Henry began.

Will nodded. "For some reason - I'm not sure just why yet - my powers were magnified. Instead of it being a gradual process, like it was the first time, it took place all at once - probably while I was sleeping. I wasn't able to deal with it until I could tune out everything else around me." He turned to look at Jean. "Your idea worked perfectly. I owe you one."

Jean grinned. "Okay. You owe me one prepared, heat-it-up meal."

Will grinned back. "It's a deal. Anyway, I've been able to build the necessary shielding. I shouldn't have any more problems."

"Then you think you're more powerful than you were before?" Xavier questioned him.

"Quite a bit more, I think. I'm not sure if it's anything you'd be able to measure, though."

"Do you feel any different?" Rogue asked.

He frowned, thinking. "I feel... honed."

Xavier's eyebrow arched up. "That's an interesting phrase. Are you saying you feel ready to fight?"

"I feel like I'm being prepared for it, yes." He stood up. "Can we run me through a training session? I have to get rid of some of this excess energy."

"All right."

A few minutes later, they assembled in the Danger Room control center. "What have you got in mind?" Will asked as he stepped out of the elevator into the staging room.

"Let's try an agility test. Just dodge whatever we throw at you."

"No problem." A few seconds later, a dense foam cushion was flying at him. He dodged it easily, then looked up at Xavier.

"Let me get this straight," he said as he wove his way around more obstacles, "I'm playing a high-tech version of dodgeball?"

"Pretty much," Xavier admitted. "Do you want the threat level increased?"

"Would you, please? I feel like an idiot doing this."

"Adding harmful objects now."

A series of solid projectiles replaced the cushions. Will continued to evade the objects as they flew towards him.

"What now?" Logan asked after a few minutes.

"Let's upgrade to lethal," Scott said.

Henry looked at Scott sharply. "I haven't had time to examine him yet. He may not be up to it."

"He seems plenty fit to me," Scott replied, pointing down at Will, who was still threading his way through the obstacles.

Henry and Xavier looked at one another uncertainly, then nodded. Xavier tapped at the keyboard for a moment, and a new panel, looking somewhat like a garden lattice, opened in the Danger Room wall.

Will looked at the new threat curiously for a moment, trying to determine its nature.

A steel javelin, about one and a half meters in length, shot out of one of the holes of the lattice and flew straight for him. His eyes widened, and he became a blur of motion, jumping out of the way.

"He's kicked into overdrive," Warren noted.

"Good thing, too," Logan added. "If he hadn't, he'd have been ready for a rotisserie." He looked meaningfully at Scott, who simply shrugged in response.

Will kept moving at enhanced speed, trying to stay clear of the volley of lances which sped towards him and tracked his movements. Rogue, who kept her eyes on his face, started getting worried. "Stop this, Scott," she said. "He can't keep this up much longer."

"He'll just teleport out of there if there's any real danger," Scott replied offhandedly.

Rogue's jaw dropped. So did Xavier's. "Scott, did you ever ask him if he _can_ teleport while he's in overdrive?"

Scott looked at Xavier uncomprehendingly for a moment, then reached for the abort button.

Too late.

A javelin shot out just as Will stumbled to one knee. He got up, looking down, and never saw it coming.

_Thunk_.

Rogue and Ororo both screamed as Will was pinned to the wall like a butterfly. The javelin entered through his right shoulder and exited midway through his back.

Rogue's lower lip trembled for a moment, then she ran for the elevator, Logan right behind her. The others followed about two seconds later.

Rogue and Logan approached Will, but didn't touch him. He was effectively hanging from the spear, his feet off the ground. He was still, his eyes dead.

The rest of the team caught up a moment later. Logan glanced at Jean. "You get anything from him?"

Jean shook her head grimly. "Nothing." She paused a moment. "No, wait." Then she hastily raised her shields.

Will's eyes flashed, and he jerkily raised his head. He stared at Logan, then glanced at the spot where the spear entered the wall. "Cut it," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Logan complied instantly, popping a single claw and slicing through the spear. Will dropped, landing on his feet and swaying unsteadily for a moment before falling to his knees. He glanced up at Jean, Betsy, and Xavier in turn. "Raise your shields," he instructed them.

He then reached back with his left hand and started pulling the spear out. He stood once the spear scraped the floor, and finished removing it. He made no sound as he did this, but the look on his face made it clear that he was not enjoying himself.

The spear hit the floor with a clang, and Will ripped his uniform where the injuries were, exposing them. He closed his eyes, and the wounds closed. He straightened up and took a few steps, then staggered a bit.

Rogue studied his face closely this time, and while it did not appear, to her eyes, that he aged, his face became leaner and more haggard. The panel nearest to Will exploded into sparks, causing him to shield his eyes.

Henry walked up to Will, his face set. "Infirmary," he said tersely. "Now."

Will nodded his head weakly, making his way towards the door.

Rogue looked at Xavier, her eyes questioning. He nodded, and she followed Henry and Will.

As the door closed behind them, Xavier turned towards Scott. "Everyone to the conference room." His tone allowed no argument.

* * *

Will groaned as he removed his coat. "Mental note: replace vest with Kevlar."

"I don't think that would have helped," Henry said as he was examining him. "The shirt too, please."

Will nodded and started unbuttoning his vest. Rogue took it and looked at it critically for a moment, then threw it into the waste bin.

"There are weapons in there," Will told her.

Rogue looked at him. "I didn't feel anything."

He gestured for Rogue to hand it to her, and took it. He fished into an interior pocket, and removed a small coil of wire.

"What's that?" Rogue asked.

"Garrote," he replied shortly.

Henry blanched. "You're not serious."

"I'll probably never need to use it, but I'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it." He rummaged through the vest again, removing a pen.

"That's a weapon?" Rogue asked.

"He didn't answer, but squeezed the clip of the pen. A needle, about one inch long, popped out from the tip.

"Let me guess," Henry said. "If you press the top, it injects?"

"Very good."

"What's it filled with?"

"There's no cartridge in it right now, but I thought that it would come in handy if we need to tranquilize someone - or eliminate them. I have a set of cartridges in my room that are filled with - let me see - curare, sodium amatyl, adrenaline, Phenobarbital, and air."

"Air?" Rogue asked. "What good is a needle full of air?"

"It would induce a stroke in minutes if injected into a vein," Henry informed her.

"Nasty," she said, frowning in disapproval.

"Maybe," Will admitted, "but if I can stop a war by killing the generals, I'm willing to have that on my conscience." He winced as Henry examined the healed area. "Careful. That's still a little tender."

"I'm not surprised," Henry replied as he swabbed iodine on Will's back. "Leave that on for a few minutes, then go to bed."

"Can I shower first without causing any complications?"

"The wounds are closed, so I don't see why not."

"Good. Maybe I can loosen up some of these kinks." He slid off the bench, threw his coat over one shoulder, and walked out.

Rogue looked at Henry. "Tell Ororo and the Professor that I'm a little too biased to be any good. I want to be sure he's okay."

Henry nodded. "Make sure he goes straight to bed."

Rogue followed Will from the elevator, then from there to his room. "I _can_ put myself to bed," he told her pointedly as she followed him in.

"I've noticed that you tend not to take care of yourself when you get hurt," she replied. "I want to make sure that you don't just flop into bed without patching yourself up."

"My wounds have healed. What's the problem?"

"Your back and shoulder healed, but I noticed that you were covered with bruises. And if you don't get some heat on those muscles, you'll barely be able to move in the morning."

He blinked. "Good point."

"Besides," she added, her eyes twinkling, "you stink."

"Well, excuse _me_!"

"Come on, big boy, hit the showers," she ordered, sitting on the bed.

"Yes, coach," he said affectionately as he went to his closet and pulled out a hooded terrycloth robe. "Grab a book to read. I'll be in there a while."

She nodded and went to the bookshelves, deciding on an anthology of vampire stories. She got through two of them by the time Will came out, toweling his hair dry. "Don't you use a dryer?" she asked.

"I never need one. My hair dries pretty quickly. The problem is combing it back as soon as I can. If I don't I wind up looking like Yahoo Serious."

She smiled. "Feeling any better?"

"A bit," he admitted. Then he yawned. "Now to get some sleep. I didn't get any in the tank."

"You didn't?" she asked in a surprised voice.

"Nope. I kept getting really close, but never quite made it." He went to the mirror and combed his hair straight back. "I was linked with the Chorus so closely, though, that it didn't affect me too much." He started walking back to his bed, then stopped and went to the window instead, closing the shutters and pulling a heavy curtain over them, effectively sealing off the room from the sun. "I'll never get to sleep if there's any light," he explained.

She nodded, then held up the book. "Can I borrow this?"

"Sure," he told her, smiling slightly. He then pointed at her, then down, twirling his finger slightly. She took the hint and averted her eyes while he got into bed. "Could you shut off the light on your way out?"

"No problem." She got up and walked to the side of the bed. "Sleep yourself out, okay?" she asked him as she touched her gloved hand to his cheek.

He held her hand against his face for a moment, then kissed it. "Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"For being here."

She smiled as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

* * *

The other X-Men, meanwhile, had gathered in the conference room. Xavier and Ororo sat next to one another. The original team members, with the exception of Scott, took the adjoining seats, and the others occupied the remaining chairs. Scott took a seat opposite Xavier, leaving several empty seats to either side of him - an isolation which was quite deliberate.

Xavier wasted no time. "What in the hell were you thinking, Scott? Will just finishes recovering from one stressful experience, and you subject him to another one."

"With absolutely no basis for your actions," Ororo added. "You haven't sat in on one of Will's tests. You have no knowledge of his limits, or of exactly what switching to enhanced speed does to him."

"If it was so dangerous for him, then why didn't he say something?" Scott shot back.

"Because you never gave him any warning," Logan growled. "He thought he was in a simple training session. You never told him you were switching to lethal."

"You've been riding him ever since he got here, Scott," Bobby added. "He's done everything he can to get on your good side. Problem is, you don't seem to have one where he's concerned.

"If you're not going to get off his case for his sake," Bobby continued, "then you'd damn sure better do it for Rogue's. She's been stressed out over the way you've been treating Will, and it's going to start affecting her performance soon."

"In any case," Xavier said, "I think it would be best if, for the time being, Will and Rogue were transferred to Ororo's unit and authority."

"_What_!" Scott exclaimed.

"I'm not going to split them apart just yet. Their personalities seem to complement one another quite well. Will can keep Rogue from rushing into things before she's ready, as she sometimes does, and Rogue seems to be able to help Will maintain a sense of focus."

"There's something else as well," Betsy pointed out, "that I think we're all overlooking."

"What's that?" Logan asked.

"I've been watching Rogue carefully ever since Will got here, and the change in her attitude has been startling. She's not moping around anymore, like she used to do when I first joined the team." She made a face. "I don't want to sound overly critical, but while we were in Australia, she occasionally became more than a bit annoying. I mean, it wasn't like any of the rest of us had any companionship."

"Good point," Ororo said, "although I never thought of it that way."

"Now, however, she's a lot more cheerful. I'm not entirely certain of just what happened when she and Will went on their first date, but she's been a lot happier since then."

"Nothing really happened, from what she told me," Ororo supplied, "but Will did give her his undivided attention for the entire evening."

"And when's the last time that happened to her? I always felt that Rogue sometimes wore some of her more provocative outfits as a way to compensate for the limitations that her power places on her. Since Will showed up, she's been a bit more conservative in her style of dress, probably because she's a lot more comfortable with herself."

"It may also be because Will tends to be a rather conservative dresser himself," Xavier added. "He tends towards muted colors, and seems a bit more comfortable in older styles. I haven't seen many people his age who wear a hat."

"In any case," Betsy continued, "Will doesn't seem to have any problem with making Rogue feel valued."

"Of course she's valued," Scott objected.

"As an X-Man, yes. But what about as a woman?" She looked at each of the men in turn. "When was the last time any of you told her she looked good in an outfit she's bought, or simply that she was an attractive woman?" The men looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Exactly," Betsy confirmed. "Rogue grew up in the South, with its traditional notions of femininity. That sort of thing stays with you for a while, if you're raised with it. No matter what else she's been exposed to since she joined the X-Men, the ideal of the Southern belle is somewhere in her mind. Will understands this, and his behavior reflects that. He's acting, perhaps unconsciously, the role of the gentleman, Southern or otherwise. He's been very cautious and flexible in the way he's treating her, and allowing her the opportunity to back off when she needs to."

"What about the incident after the poker game?" Bobby asked.

"I think that was more a reflection of his personality than anything else. He seems to have a very protective, nurturing streak in him. We saw that the night he was shot. He wasn't concerned with himself as much as with the risk that we were under."

"That could be a liability in combat," Ororo mused. "If he's spending all of his time protecting us, that makes him vulnerable."

"We'll work on some strategies with that in mind," Henry assured her as he came in and sat down. Then he frowned. "Is it just me, or did he heal a lot more quickly than last time?"

"He was back in one piece in about a minute," Logan confirmed.

"I can't say quite why," Henry admitted, "but I get the feeling that he's much more powerful than he was before."

"That may make him a bit more distracted," Logan noted.

"True," Xavier agreed, "but I've been working on ways around that."

"Like what?"

"I've noticed that when he's working at his computer, he's usually listening to music. Maybe that helps him focus."

"It does," Bobby supplied. "He mentioned it to me during a break in the poker game."

"Good. We'll start pumping music into his Danger Room sessions."

"We might want to look into the idea of a headset for him," Jean suggested. "Something that would play music at a level loud enough for him to hear, but that won't give him away."

"I'll ask Forge to work on something," Xavier decided.

"Where's Rogue?" Bobby asked Henry.

"She felt that she couldn't be objective, so she asked to be excused from this discussion."

"Normally, I wouldn't approve," said Ororo, "but this is an unusual situation."

Scott, who had been fuming silently up to this point, decided to speak up. "How's that?"

"We've never killed one of our own before," Warren said sternly.

"Thunderbird? Dark Phoenix? Madelyne?"

"All suicides. Cypher was killed by an opponent. Ilyanna was either a suicide, or died from Legacy, or both, depending on how you want to look at it."

"I nearly killed Rachel," Logan added, "but it was either that or let her murder somebody else."

"But none of us has ever killed another X-Man because of ignorance - willful ignorance, I might add - of that X-Man's power," Ororo informed Scott.

"If this were the XSE, Cyclops, you would be facing a court-martial," Bishop informed him.

"What would the charge be?" Warren asked out of curiosity.

"Involuntary manslaughter due to reckless endangerment." Then he frowned. "The fact that the victim came back to life complicates matters, though."

Scott pounced on that opening. "That's exactly it! The man _can't_ die. Don't we need information on just how that aspect of his powers works?"

Xavier looked at him incredulously. "Scott, are you saying that the fact that Will came back to life makes everything all right?"

"Well, no, but..."

Xavier looked at Scott for a moment, then shook his head sadly. "Why don't we all call it a day? We'll try to start fresh tomorrow."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and filed out of the room. Scott stayed seated, still glowering.

* * *

Ororo went straight to Rogue's room to inform her of her transfer. She knocked softly, then entered at Rogue's request.

She was surprised to find that Rogue had pulled down the shade and was seated in her chair, facing away from her.

"Rogue, both you and Will have been transferred to my team. I'll tell Will when he wakes up."

Rogue nodded silently, but didn't turn around. Ororo walked over and faced her.

Rogue was staring into space, crying steadily, arms wrapped around one of her stuffed bears. Ororo didn't say anything, but did roll down the sleeves of her shirt and put on her gloves. She leaned against the arm of the chair and drew Rogue to her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

Rogue was silent for a long moment. "How does he do it?"

"Do what?"

"Keep going. He... _dies_, and just picks himself up and goes on."

"I don't know," Ororo admitted. "I certainly don't know if _I_ could do it. He seems to be able to bear a lot more than most people."

"But _why_? The Professor..."

"I think that Will's powers are outside his experience. Charles tends to approach things in a very intellectual way. Will is a much more elemental sort of person. He acts on impulse and whim."

"Tell me about it," Rogue said, smiling despite herself.

"We'll see what he's like when he wakes up. Remember, we still have that religious observance of his. If I remember correctly, it's tomorrow night."

"I'd forgotten about that," Rogue admitted. "Do you think he'll be in shape for it?"  
"We'll find out tomorrow," Ororo assured her. "Why don't you try to get some rest?"  
Rogue nodded wearily and stood up, looking at herself in the mirror. "I'm a mess," she said critically.

"You don't have the complexion to cry in public," Ororo agreed, smiling. "Get some sleep, Rogue. It will all look better in the morning."

* * *

Logan was waiting in the hall when Ororo left Rogue's room. "She asleep?" he asked her.

Ororo nodded. "How is Will?"

"Out cold. For somebody who was dead an hour ago, he looks pretty peaceful. He'll probably sleep until tomorrow. You up for a drink? I could use one after today."

"Make mine a double."


	24. Chapter 24

Rogue slept through the night, waking only when the sunlight streaming through the window hit her face. She yawned, stretching luxuriously, and sat up. Glancing at the clock, she saw that she would be in time for breakfast if she hurried, so she changed into jeans, a blouse, and boots, stuffing her gloves into one pocket.

Just before she was about to start down the stairs, she decided to see if Will was up yet. As she turned the corner to the men's wing, she nearly collided with Bishop, who was leaving his room.

"Good morning," he greeted her. "Are you feeling all right?"

She nodded. "I'll be better when I see how Will is." She knocked on Will's door, but got no answer. She opened the door and glanced inside. "He must be downstairs," she decided.

He wasn't. Bobby and Henry were busy on breakfast, and neither one of them had seen him. "I am _not_ going through this again," Rogue grumbled to herself. "Computer, where is Archetype?"

_"Designate: Archetype is currently in the gardens."_

Bishop frowned. "With a thunderstorm on the way?"

* * *

A few minutes later, Rogue and Bishop found him underneath a large oak tree near the center of the gardens. He was sitting in lotus position, with his eyes closed. A portable stereo was sitting on a stump about twenty feet away.

"Should we disturb him?" Bishop asked quietly.

"Too late to decide," Will said, without changing expression. He opened his eyes, which were, of course, glowing.

"How are you feeling?" Rogue asked him, kneeling down so that she was facing him.

"Off-balance," was his swift reply.

"Is that a bad thing?" Bishop asked.

He nodded as he stood up. "Before I did my shish kebab impression yesterday, I was feeling very centered. I think the injury threw me off a bit. I came out here to meditate. I don't mind if you watch, but I'd advise you to keep a distance." He removed his shirt. "Bishop, could you start the CD that's in the player, please?"

Bishop nodded and turned on the stereo. A soft blend of synthesizers and pipes started playing.

"Enya?" Rogue asked, recognizing the music.

"It helps me relax," Will shrugged. He went through several katas for the next few minutes, then put down the sword and resumed his kneeling position. He glanced at Rogue. "You may be a bit more prepared for what's about to happen. Try to keep him from shooting anything."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Bishop protested.

"Whatever you say, Worf."

"Now wait a minute..."

"Just let it drop," Rogue advised Bishop.

Will closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to concentrate. After a few minutes, he grimaced, then opened his eyes.

"Nothing happened," Bishop informed him.

"I'm aware of that," he replied dryly. He cupped his chin in his right hand, thinking. "What am I doing wrong?" he thought out loud. He looked down at the ground, distracted for a moment by a ladybug walking across his arm. He brushed it off absently, then stared at his arms for a moment. He exhaled sharply. "I'm an idiot," he said.

"Hey!" Rogue protested.

"I'm browbeating myself, dear. Please don't interrupt." He closed his eyes again, assumed meditation posture, and reached out with his mind.

A few seconds later, both Rogue and bishop heard a dry hissing. They looked at one another, each looking for an explanation, but they both shrugged.

Then Bishop noticed a flash of movement. When he realized what it was, he grabbed Rogue's arm and pointed.

The dragons on Will's arms were moving. They slowly wove their way up his arms, then traveled across his back and chest, interweaving as they did so. After a while, the differing colors of the dragons started to bleed into one another, resulting in a rich, deep brown.

The single dragon slowly made its way down Will's left arm and touched the ground. Its eyes glowed brightly, and its gaze flickered at Bishop and Rogue before it started making its way around Will. Making a clockwise circle, it slowly surrounded him. As the tail of the serpent left his arm, the head met it, and the dragon quite deliberately swallowed its own tail.

When it did so, Will's eyes opened. He stood up slowly, staying within the circle, and raised one hand. A moment later, the rain began.

"Great," Bishop said to himself, as he closed the collar of his shirt. Then he thought of something. "He's probably going to get hit by lightning again, isn't he?"

"Probably," Rogue agreed.

"Then why the hell are we standing next to him?"

They looked at one another for a moment, then ran like hell. Bishop scrambled back, grabbed the stereo, and sat down beside Rogue within a large hedge.

A few seconds later, they watched as a massive lightning bolt struck Will. The result was not what they were expecting, though.

This time he screamed.

* * *

Will woke up a few minutes later, when Bishop slapped him across the face.

"What happened?" he said groggily.

"You tried to play Ben Franklin again," Rogue informed him.

"Darn, and here I am without my kite." He sat up with a groan. "Let's get inside before the rain starts. I'll take the stereo, Bishop."

Bishop handed Will the stereo, which promptly shorted out and blew up. "Wonderful," Will muttered darkly.

Before they reached the mansion, they were stopped by Ororo and Logan. Ororo was carrying a sleeping bag under one arm, while Logan was setting up a tent. Ororo tossed the sleeping bag to Will. "_You_ are sleeping outside tonight."

Will didn't even blink. "May I ask why?"

"Hank figures that right now, you'd fry every circuit in the mansion," Logan informed him. "He wants you out here until you cool down."

"Someone will bring you your dinner tonight," Ororo added.

"Let me get this straight," Will said skeptically. "I'm being thrown out?"

"Only until your power levels stabilize," Ororo assured him.

Will grumbled and tossed the sleeping bag into the tent. "And I suppose that Hank wants me to stay around here so that he can keep an eye on me."

"I'm afraid so," Ororo said sympathetically.

"I warn you," Will said ominously, "I _will_ have my revenge."

* * *

"How long is he going to keep playing that damn guitar?" Bobby complained.

"Probably all night," Betsy predicted.

"Will somebody please break the thing?"

"I already did," Logan informed him. "Three times. He _did_ promise revenge."

"But of all the things he could play - _John Denver_?"

* * *

The next morning, a very sleepy and grouchy Hank let Will back in the mansion on the condition that he not use his powers at all. This was done both to get Will back on active duty and to appease the rest of the X-Men, who had threatened to turn Hank into a big blue bean bag if he didn't find some way to shut Will up.

Will went straight to his room and took a shower, then collapsed into his easy chair. He hadn't slept well during the night, due to both the influence of the Chorus and the fact that Logan had set up the tent on top of a tree root. His back was still killing him, and he was hungry, since no one had gotten around to starting breakfast yet, and he wasn't allowed in the kitchen.

He was just starting to drift off into a peaceful doze when someone knocked on his door. He let out a low growl that would have impressed Logan. "Come in," he said as politely as he could.

Rogue walked in, carrying a tray with French toast and sausage. "I thought you'd appreciate some breakfast."

"Thank you," he said gratefully as he took the tray from her and started eating.

"Why'd you scream yesterday?" she asked.

"The little display that you saw yesterday acted as a sort of mystical funnel, channeling more energy to me than could happen normally. I was hit with a bit more than I could deal with at one time. It felt like my brain was being deep-fried."

"Ow."

"That's putting it mildly." Once he was finished eating, his face stiffened for a moment, and his eyes went distant. "Have there been any problems yet today?"

"Not yet."

"There will be. You'd better advise Ororo to keep the team on standby."

"They have been for the past two days. She figured that all these things have been happening to you for a reason."

"I can't argue with that. I just keep getting more and more power poured into me. I just hope it's enough."

"For what?"

"Whatever it is that I have to do."

"You don't know?"

He shook his head. "Right now the Chorus is so loud in my head that I can't hear what it's trying to say."

"That one went right by me," she confessed.

He scratched his head for a moment. "It's kind of like being at a concert where everybody's singing along with the music. If you don't know what the tune and song are, you have no idea what the audience is saying."

She nodded, not fully understanding. "I'll take your word for it. You done?"

He handed her the tray. "Can you get my sword from the armory? I'd like to sharpen it."

"I'll have Bishop bring it up."

"You may as well have him bring up my entire uniform."

"You're positive that something's going to happen today?"

"Positive." He stood up and stretched, wincing slightly as he did so.

"Are you okay?" she asked with some concern.

"I don't think that my last injury healed quite right. It feels a little tight."

"Want Hank to look at it?"

"I should be all right. I just need to do some stretching. You'd better have that talk with Ororo."

Bishop came up half an hour later with Will's uniform and weapons. He watched as Will took a flat stone out of his desk and began to sharpen his sword. "A whetstone would work much better," he commented.

"It would," Will agreed, "but I don't _have_ a whetstone, do I?"

"You're certainly in a good mood today."

"Chalk it up to being a Christmas tree last night. Can you get me something from the armory?"

"What do you need?"

"Three clips of depleted uranium rounds."

Bishop's eyebrows shot up. "That's pretty heavy artillery."

"It never hurts to be prepared," Will said as he polished the blade and placed it on the bed.

"True enough. I'll be right back."

By the time Bishop returned with the ammunition, Will was in uniform and placing his sword inside his coat. "How do you keep it inside?" he asked.

Will opened up the coat, revealing a small double-pronged hook, similar to the type of thing that holds up clothes in a locker, which supported the sword by its crosspiece. "The only drawback is that I can't sit down." He removed the sword from his coat, twirling it once before setting it against the chair, and sat back down.

"Here," Bishop said, handing him the three clips he had requested.

Will took them and loaded one into his pistol, and placed the pistol inside his shoulder holster. He put the other two clips into an interior pocket of his coat, then settled back into the chair, tipping his hat over his eyes, and crossed his arms. After a moment, his breathing became shallow and regular, which Bishop took as a sign that he was asleep.

Bishop quietly left the room and took the elevator down to the War Room, where most of the other X-Men were gathered. Xavier, Ororo, Henry, Logan, Scott and Jean were all studying the global display.

"'Poccy's always gone for big places before," Logan suggested. "I don't think his ego can handle lying low."

"Maybe," Ororo mused, "but I suspect that things are going to be different this time."

"Why do you say that?" Henry asked.

"I think that some of Will's intuition is rubbing off on me. Try to follow my logic, and tell me if I'm wrong." Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Will and Apocalypse are due for a confrontation. Will has been through several experiences over the past few days that have magnified his powers. Wouldn't it make sense that Apocalypse would be undergoing a similar process?"

They all looked at one another, then nodded, urging her to continue. "Will went to his ancestral home - Ireland - to recharge. Why wouldn't Apocalypse do the same?"

"If that's the case, then he's in Egypt, or somewhere close to it," Henry concluded, focusing the display to that area. "And since Stryfe's technology was based on Apocalypse's, we know what to look for."

"What do you mean?" Bishop asked.

"We noticed - after the fact - that Stryfe's bases gave off EM radiation at a specific frequency. I think I'm safe in guessing that Apocalypse's bases would do the same." He worked at the terminal for a few moments, and a small area on the display started to glow.

"Syria," Ororo noted.

"Not surprising," Henry remarked. "It was once part of Egypt."

"Everyone get into uniform," Ororo decided. "We'll be leaving within the hour."

"I'll tell Will," Rogue announced.

"He already knows," someone said from the door. They all turned around to see Will standing in the doorway. He was grimacing in concentration, and a light sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead.

"Are you all right?" Ororo asked.

"Not really," he admitted. "I'm trying to keep my powers contained, but I'm running pretty hot right now. It's a bit of a strain."

"Can you manage it until we get to Egypt?" Scott pressed.

Will nodded. "I can, but I'll have to shut down all of my abilities to do it. I won't be able to sense anything until we get there. I can teleport ahead of you."

Scott vetoed that instantly. "If he's waiting for you, then you'll be in trouble before we can even get there. We all go together."

Will looked a bit dubious about that, but accepted it. "I'll be waiting at the hanger." He strode out of the room.

* * *

Two hours later, Blackbird Gold was streaking over the Atlantic Ocean. Henry was at the controls, with Bishop acting as copilot, while Scott, Ororo and Logan debated possible strategies. They were coordinating with Xavier, who was monitoring the situation from the mansion, as Bobby and Warren manned the defensive systems.

Jean and Betsy, meanwhile, were trying to lend Will a hand, or a mind, as it were, in keeping his powers under control.

"That's right, Will," Jean said encouragingly. "Set up another stone, bring it up square... very good."

"Now move on to the next course," Betsy instructed him.

"Give me a second," Will said, panting from the mental exertion.

"I think that should be enough for now, Betsy," Jean concluded. "If he sets up too many barriers, he may not be able to act quickly enough when the time comes."

"You may be right," Betsy conceded. "Are you all right for now?" she asked Will.

Will nodded weakly, and Betsy and Jean both moved towards the front of the plane.

"Betsy tends to push people a little hard," Rogue informed Will from her nearby seat.

"I noticed," Will commented. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm all right," she shrugged. "You seem a little frazzled."

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't like getting all of you involved with this."

"Will," she informed him gently, "We've been fighting Apocalypse since long before you showed up. Whatever happens, it won't be the first time."

He shook his head vehemently. "No. This is going to be different."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't _know_ what I mean!" he said in exasperation. "All I know is what I feel. This isn't going to be like any encounter with Apocalypse that you've had before."

"Um, Will," Rogue said hesitantly, "you'd better try to calm down. Your eyes are starting to glow."

Will grimaced for a moment, and his eyes dimmed. He exhaled sharply. "Rogue, please don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't feel like talking right now."

She nodded. "I'll go see how long we've got to go." She stood up and moved towards the front of the plane.

"How is he?" Ororo asked.

"He told me - very politely, of course - to leave him alone so he could concentrate."

"Anything else?"

"He said that this wasn't going to be like any other time we've gone up against Apocalypse."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Logan asked.

"He doesn't know."

"Great," Scott grumbled from the pilot seat.

"What's our ETA for Syria?"

"Three hours."

"You're at maximum speed?" Rogue asked with some surprise.

Scott managed to look a bit embarrassed. "I don't want to risk damaging the plane by having him stay in it too long. Besides, the sooner we get there, the sooner we find out this was all a wild goose chase."

Rogue looked at him sharply. "You think all this is some kind of trick?"

"No," Scott said in an even voice. "I think that he believes he's right. I just can't see how going halfway across the world on an unconfirmed guess is going to do us any good."

"Then why did you refuse to let him go alone?" Logan growled.

Scott was silent for a moment. "Because if I'm wrong, and he went alone, then he'd be a dead man."


	25. Chapter 25

Scott placed the Blackbird in hover mode about fifteen miles south of Damascus. Rogue, Jean, and Ororo helped Will out of the plane, and lowered him to the ground. "Are we far enough from the plane?" Jean asked him.

"We should be," he replied. He took a few steps away from them and sat down in the sand, facing away from them and placing his sword on the ground. "You and Betsy should raise your shields."

"We never lowered them."

"Smart move." He closed his eyes and slowly lowered the barriers that he had built.

The three women were startled when Will's head snapped back as if he had been struck. His breathing intensified, and he bent over in pain. Rogue started to move towards him, but Jean held her back gently, shaking her head.

Will seemed to get control of himself, and he stood up. _"That way,"_ he said pointing across the desert. His voice had acquired the same resonating timbre that Rogue had observed at Glastonbury Tor.

"We should get back on the plane," Ororo advised.

Will shook his head as he placed his sword back in his coat_. "I have to stay on the ground. You can follow however you choose."_ He started walking in the direction that he had indicated. After a few moments, he had broken into a run.

"Let's go," Jean said quickly. "He'll probably be switching to super-speed before long." They reentered the Blackbird, and Scott began a complicated series of maneuvers that allowed them to stay within visual range of Will without having to reduce their speed to the point where they were a target.

After a few minutes, it became clear that Will was heading towards a large ravine. "That'll be too narrow for us to follow him," Logan observed.

"Then we'll have to get out," Scott shrugged. "We've all climbed before."

Everyone took a canteen of water from the galley, and they landed the plane far enough away from the edge of the ravine to avoid any possibility of its weight causing an avalanche. Logan sniffed at the air. "He went this way, 'Roro."

"Will you have any problem, Jean?" Bobby asked.

"None, once I locate him." She frowned for a moment. "There he is." She pointed towards the west.

"Let's go, then," Ororo decided. She, Rogue, and Warren flew down into the ravine, while Jean carried everyone else down.

The floor of the ravine was about one hundred fifty meters straight down, about seven meters wide, and was covered with a thin layer of sand that had sifted down from the surface over the centuries. Logan found Will's tracks within a few seconds. "He's movin' slowly," Logan observed. "Smart boy."

"How far ahead of us is he?" Ororo asked.

"About three hundred meters."

"Let's try to narrow that down."

Rogue and Logan took point, while Bobby and Warren took the rear. Scott, Ororo, Jean and Betsy spread out in a diamond formation, with Scott taking the front, Ororo the back, and Jean and Betsy covering the sides, probing outward with their telepathy.

_Anything, Jean?_ Scott whispered within his own mind.

_Not yet,_ she replied.

_Can you sense Will?_

_Only vaguely. He's not having an easy time._

* * *

Will leaned against a boulder as he staggered forward, gasping for breath. "Won't you all _shut up_?" he muttered under his breath. "It's hard to be subtle with you screaming at me."

He took off his hat and wiped his forehead. He had just squeezed through a very narrow gap in the rock face, reaching a wider area which seemed to be made of less stable rock; large, irregular slabs of stone were strewn randomly ahead of him. He carefully wove his way atop them, hugging the side of the canyon for support.

After about two hundred feet, the terrain became smooth again, and Will found himself in an area which was flanked on either side by a wall of rock which, strangely enough, became narrower as it got higher, rather than wider, as was the case everywhere else he had been in the canyon.

He gave himself a moment to ponder this discrepancy, then pulled out his communicator to update his position to Ororo. It shorted out in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, shook his head, and tossed it aside.

The explosion came without warning, throwing him to the ground. The sides of the canyon began to collapse, sliding down the walls to block the gap which he had just passed through. Will, however, was untouched.

He stood up slowly, picking up his sword, and examined the rubble. _Okay, what's the point of all this?_ he thought to himself_. It didn't hurt me, and the rest of the team is too far away for any of them to have been hit. The only thing this'll do is delay me for a minute or two while I clear this..._

_Oh, no._

His eyes began to flash incessantly as he began teleporting the boulders out of his way.

* * *

The other X-Men jumped at the noise of the explosion. "Think he was caught in that?" Bobby asked quickly as he iced up.

"No," Betsy replied. "I would have felt something if he was hit, even through his shields."

"We should find out what happened," Ororo decided. "Double time, everyone."

They all started moving a bit more briskly, their various senses and powers probing outward.

Logan held up his hand, signaling everyone to stop.

"What?" Bobby said softly.

"I thought I heard something."

The sound of another explosion, directly above them, boomed through the valley. They all watched, shocked, as the top of the cliff started falling directly straight down towards them.

"I've got it!" Jean yelled as she levitated up. She stretched out her telekinetic net, putting all of her energy towards withstanding the crush of the oncoming avalanche.

Everyone held their breath as the rain of boulders rushed towards the shimmer created by the ionization of Jean's psi-energy.

And their jaws all dropped as the boulders passed right through it.

"They're not real!" Jean snapped. "It's a - !"

She never got to finish her sentence. A bolt of energy sliced through the air, enveloping her. A scream of pain ripped through her lungs, and her agony passed through her psychic bond with Scott, sending him into a similar paroxysm of torture. They both collapsed to the ground, senseless.

"Defensive positions, everyone!" Ororo snapped as she began to build up a sandstorm to flush out their opponents.

Three short cracks echoed among the rocks, and Henry, Bishop, and Betsy all slumped to the ground, each with a small dart sticking in their skin.

"Betsy!" Warren yelled, panicked. He began a dive towards her and the others.

"No, Warren!" Rogue snapped. "Don't!"

She was startled when a small explosion in front of her covered her face with a white powder. She choked for a moment, then immediately started feeling woozy. She noticed, just before landing in a helpless sprawl on the sand, that Ororo was in a similar predicament. A moment later, Warren had joined them on the ground.

Bobby formed an ice slide and tried to reach Logan. He didn't have enough humidity to work with, though, and he was thrown off his feet as a concussion mine exploded from the ground underneath him. His head cracked as he hit the wall of the canyon, and he collapsed in an addled heap.

Logan stared, dumbfounded, at the rest of the team. They had all been taken down in the space of ten seconds, and their enemy had yet to show themselves. He kept his body loose, ready to tear anything that appeared into bits.

He heard the barest sound, like two grains of sand scraping together, directly behind him.

A heartbeat later, the world erupted into a haze of pain.

* * *

Rogue shook herself out of her stupor a few minutes later, but was unable to do anything more than roll over. Her blurry vision cleared after a moment , and she heard the sound of footsteps running towards her.

Will scrambled into her field of vision. His face was bleeding from a number of scrapes on his cheeks and chin, and his uniform was ripped in several places. Rogue's head was still a bit fuzzy, and to her surprise, all she could think was that he had to take better care of his things.

Will careened to a stop, staring unbelieving at the sight of the fallen X-Men. He stood just inside the entrance to the canyon, his back to the cliff face.

Rogue could only stare, horrified, as the rock behind Will shimmered like a mirage. A large shape emerged from the exposed recess, looming silently behind him.

Will continued to survey the condition of the X-Men, and his eyes finally met Rogue's. His face widened in realization, and he slowly turned around.

Apocalypse towered above him, easily three times his size. In his hands, he held a massive, barbed spear, covered in gold, bearing a series of Egyptian designs.

Will stood there, speechless, for a moment, then gritted his teeth, raised his sword, and lunged.

Apocalypse moved faster than Rogue would have thought possible for someone so large. He parried Will's thrust, stunned him with the butt of the spear, and knocked Will's sword out of his hand.

Will leaped back, clutching his broken wrist, then looked up just in time to see the point of the spear reach his heart.

Rogue gasped, helpless, as the spear ripped right through Will, emerging from his back.

Will's scream echoed throughout the valley. Apocalypse twisted the spear with a sneer and pulled it out, tearing through Will's flesh even more with the barbs.

Will dropped to his knees, staring at the hole in his chest dumbly. Apocalypse picked him up by his coat and lifted him off his feet.

Then he sent a blast of energy through his hands, setting Will on fire.

Will screamed again as he was dropped to the ground, his flesh and hair burning. He writhed for a few moments, then flashed as he vanished.

Apocalypse stared at the scorch marks on the ground, and then sighed regretfully.

"A pity," he said in his ultra bass voice. "I was expecting more from him. I thought he would be more fit."

Rogue heard him once more just before she lost consciousness again:

"Now... what am I going to do with all of you?"

* * *

_END OF MOVEMENT ONE_


	26. Intermission One

_What went wrong?_

That was the one thought that kept spinning through his head as he groped his way through the darkness. He dragged himself along the ground, making his way towards the sound of the water dripping into the pool of the cave.

He couldn't see himself, which was a blessing. His skin was charred, and most of his clothing had been incinerated by the attack. The plastic that he had been carrying had melted, and the metal had seared whatever tissue it was closest to.

He slowly felt his way along until his hand splashed into the spring, then pulled himself into the water. He floated for a few seconds, then sank beneath the surface, curling up into a fetal position.

_What went wrong?_

_Something **must** have gone wrong,_ he thought to himself through the pain. _What was the point of it all if it was going to end this quickly?_

A few seconds, or maybe hours, later, he suddenly jumped up, surfacing.

"What do you mean, you made a mistake?" he rasped into the shadows.

After a moment, he nodded. "All right, I can accept that. How soon until I'm ready to go back?"

_"What?"_

"No, I am _not_ going to bide my time until he's weaker! The others are there right now, and he'll kill them without thinking twice about it! Then he'll be confident enough to start attacking again! I have to stop him _now_, when he's expecting me to be licking my wounds. You've got to send me back there!"

The only reply that could be heard was the howling of the wind.

"I don't care _what_ it does to me! They've all done too much, come too far, for you, or me, to abandon them. They were willing to fight for you on my word alone! Damn it, I _led_ them there!

"I won't let any of them get hurt because of my actions! You do whatever you have to. Just make me strong enough to stop the bastard and get them back!" His voice took on a harder tone. "You do it, or so help me, I will _never_ do what's required! You can all go to Hell for all I care! I'll let him win, I swear it!"

He nodded again. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

A moment later, he heard the rumble of thunder beyond the cliffs. He slowly lowered himself back into the pool, allowing only his face to break the surface.

"Of course it's going to hurt," he muttered to himself. "It always does."

* * *

Paidric Casey usually didn't take the shore road to get home, but he'd worked late, and the storm that was brewing looked threatening enough to be a problem. The time that he'd save would be worth missing his usual hour at the pub, and he had a bottle of whiskey in his cabinet that would help warm him up.

He cursed suddenly and hit his brakes, startled by a noise. He looked around, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. The only thing in the area was Riley's place, over by the fairy mound, and the lights there were out.

Paidric listened for a moment longer, then started driving again. A sudden rumble of thunder urged him to increase his speed. A moment later, the sky was filled with flashes of lightning. He muttered a short prayer, then dismissed the whole thing as being part of his imagination. The wind was just getting worse, he thought to himself.

After all, why in the hell would someone be screaming?


	27. Chapter 27

_**Author's Note: This chapter is actually Chapter 26, but the parameters of the chapter system refused to allow me to include Intermission One without counting it numerically, and disallowed naming a chapter with a number than the listed order in the Chapter List. Please note that no chapters are missing, and that all future chapters should be read as being one below the listed number.Thank you.**_

* * *

Logan grunted as a scorpion walked across his face.

He couldn't do much about it, because he, like all of the other X-Men, had a dampening collar around his neck and was shackled to a wall, with his arms pinned so tightly that he had no leverage. He could pop his claws, but that wouldn't do him any good, and the gags bound around their mouths kept them from talking to one another.

He had been the first to awaken after the attack, and had been worried by how long the rest of the team had taken to come around. Whatever they had been drugged with was pretty strong, he realized. It wasn't intended to stun them, but to put them out and keep them out. _At that level, it probably would've killed a normal human,_ he thought to himself.

Once they were all awake, and had each come to the conclusion that their bonds were too complex to be picked (although Ororo gave it her best try), they took a quick survey of the room. It was perfectly square, consisting of finely chiseled sandstone, lain in courses so tight that they were seamless. They were hanging on three of the walls, leaving the remaining one bare. On a small stone column in the center of the room a simple oil lamp, of the sort common in the Mideast, provided the only light.

After what Henry judged to be about two hours, a stone slid inward, appearing from the center of the free wall, and ground along the floor with a dusty hiss.

Apocalypse strode in, his feet crunching on the thin layer of sand on the floor. He gave the door a nudge with one hand, and it closed with a hollow boom.

He slowly walked the perimeter of the room, gazing into the eyes of each of the X-Men in turn. His stare was steady and unwavering, and his expression was unreadable. After he was done surveying them, he gestured at the lamp. Its flame blazed up, nearly reaching the ceiling, filling the room with light.

He moved to face Ororo, and pointed a finger at her. The finger seemed to liquefy for a moment, then started to elongate and narrow, turning into a thin, sharp hooked blade.

Ororo didn't even flinch as he started moving it towards her eye. In her mind, however, she prayed to the Goddess for help.

Apparently someone was listening, because Apocalypse snapped his finger down in an eyeblink, unlocking the gag.

Ororo and all the other X-Men exhaled with relief for a moment. But only for a moment.

Apocalypse drew himself closer to Ororo until they were eye-to-eye.

"Where is he?"

Ororo was dumbfounded by the question. She had been expecting Apocalypse to gloat, or start preaching about the survival of the fittest, or another one of his characteristic behaviors. She was so stunned, in fact, that she gave the only answer she could:

"I don't know."

Apocalypse looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly, turning away from her.

The next thing she knew, her head was cracking against the wall from the force of his slap.

"That was not what I wanted to hear," he informed her.

He gestured again, and their gags vanished.

"I truly hope that one of you has a better answer than that to give me. If not, the next few days are going to pass very slowly."

"Are you tellin' me that all your overgrown arcade machines can't find one man?" Logan growled.

"He is far from an ordinary man, Wolverine. And I will not waste my time wading among the unfit refuse of the world to seek him out, when you can give me what I require."

"In other words, he's invisible to your sensors," Warren concluded.

Apocalypse's eyes narrowed slightly, and he glanced at Warren. "I knew that time would give me the opportunity to bring you back into my fold, my son. I look forward to having Death fly the skies again."

"He's baiting you, Warren," Scott advised. "Ignore him."

"You are hardly one to criticize, Cyclops," Apocalypse said in a mild tone, "especially given your recent idiocy." He smiled slightly as he saw Scott jawline ripple. "You were given more than ample warning about Archetype's nature and purpose, and yet you still chose to accompany him here despite his objections. To add to your foolishness, you insisted that the rest of the X-Men join you. Very unwise."

"Indeed, I suppose that I must thank you. While defeating all of you was in itself hardly worth the trouble, it provided enough of a distraction to leave Archetype vulnerable when he faced me. All I need do now is deliver the final stroke."

"But to accomplish that," he continued, his voice becoming sterner, "I must procure him. And _that_, youngsters, is where you are of use to me."

"What makes you so certain that we know where he fled to?" Henry asked in as professional a manner as he could manage.

"Oh, I do not doubt your ignorance of his whereabouts, Doctor McCoy. But you do not need to know them to serve my purpose."

"And why is that?"

Apocalypse's response was to punch Henry in the gut. "Your suffering will bring him to me."

"You see," he said conversationally as Henry gasped for breath, "he knows that I have you. That knowledge will gnaw at him. After all, you are his family now. He would never let anything happen to you. He has already proven that. Soon - very soon, I should think - he will return here to try and free you, and in his weakened condition he will be easy prey. It will take very little effort on my part to eliminate him."

"What is he to you?" Jean demanded.

"He is an abomination," Apocalypse replied in a flat tone. "Unnatural and unfit."

"Is he?" Rogue snapped. "Then why didn't you just blast him, like you usually do to the 'unfit'?"

Apocalypse was silent for a moment, but his glare spoke volumes. "He is not worth the effort."

"Bull! He took down two of your Horsemen without breathing hard. Matter of fact," she continued, thinking out loud, "War said that you were waiting for Archetype. Why would you be waiting for someone who isn't 'worth the effort'? That isn't like you." She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"Now that I think about it, you're acting really out of character. What's with the illusions, the sneak attacks - for that matter, why did you take us as prisoners? Your normal MO's to kill anyone who trips over something."

"The true survivor tailors his tactics to fit the situation, Rogue," Apocalypse replied smoothly.

"So what's so different about this situation?" she pressed. "What makes him so special that you'd go this far out of your way to destroy him? How is one man a threat to your..."

Her voice trailed off as the realization came to her:

"You're afraid of him."

Apocalypse's eyes blazed, and he struck Rogue hard enough to make a gash across her cheek.

_"I fear no one!"_

Rogue spat blood as she glared back at him. "That's why you kept us as hostages. You want some leverage to use against him. You don't _want_ a fair fight! This isn't about the survival of the fittest. It's about _your_ survival! He's got the potential to be your equal. You've known that all along. He stands 'against you, from now until the end of days'. You're trying to save your own skin, and you'll hide behind us if you have to." She sneered at him. "Some survivor _you_ are."

His reply was a series of blows that broke her nose and a few of her ribs.

The other X-Men watched helplessly, unable to do anything. Betsy had to turn her head away.

Apocalypse composed himself a few moments later. "I _am_ a survivor, X-Man," he growled as he held Rogue's head up by the hair and stared into her battered face. "I have survived for four thousand years. I will survive beyond humanity. I will survive beyond Archetype." He released her and strode to the opening door. "And I guarantee that I will survive beyond _you_." The door boomed behind him.

"Guess I... told him... didn't I... guys?" Rogue wheezed.

Soon afterwards, the lamp burned out.

A few hours (days? months?) later, Apocalypse entered the room again, followed by two small mutants who each carried a small covered tray in their hands. "I realized that I was not fulfilling my duties as a host," he announced as he had them set the trays on stands and leave the room. He set a new, battery powered lamp on the table, then walked over to Rogue, whose head was hanging loosely.

"You are not looking at all well, my dear," he advised her as he cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head up.

The others tried to suppress their reactions, with varying degrees of success. Rogue's eyes were both blackened and heavily swollen, her nose was crooked and bleeding, and she was covered with cuts, welts, and other wounds, none of which was healing properly. Logan guessed that a few of her teeth were broken as well.

Apocalypse removed the coverings from one of the trays, revealing an assortment of surgical implements and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. "First, we have to clean off those wounds. We cannot allow infection to set in, after all."

He saturated a gauze pad with the alcohol and started scrubbing at Rogue's face with it. The sting of the alcohol went straight into the cuts, causing her to moan and writhe in pain.

"Give her some kind of anesthesia, damn you!" Henry yelled.

"I am afraid that we do not keep any on hand, Doctor. One must make do with the materials available. I am certain that you agree."

After a few more minutes of 'disinfection', Apocalypse gripped Rogue's nose between two fingers and manipulated it until it was straight, ignoring her cries in the process. "That should heal satisfactorily, I should think," he said when he was done inspecting his handiwork. "I would take care of your ribs as well, Rogue, but I am certain that your modesty would prevent you from disrobing in front of so many people. I will, therefore, bow to your aesthetic tastes, and leave you now." He picked up the trays and walked towards the door. "I believe that I will leave the lamp this time. You should all have the dignity of seeing one another as you say farewell."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bishop asked.

"As I have observed no indications that Archetype is returning to aid you, I believe that an incentive program is in order." He uncovered the other tray, and placed the contents, a flat monitor, on the wall, where it stuck. He activated the monitor, which displayed a room with a large wooden table. Several malicious looking iron implements were hanging from the walls.

"I will kill one of you per day until he returns. The unlucky individual will be chosen by random lot." He tapped at his chin with one finger. "Slow torture seems an appropriate method. After all, when one is four thousand years old, one must maintain _some_ traditions." He opened the door, then turned around. "I strongly suggest that you all get some rest. One of you is going to have a very busy day in the morning." The door shut behind him.

"Rogue?" Scott asked urgently, "can you answer me? Stay with us, please."

Rogue couldn't answer him. It was too painful to breathe, let alone talk. Her eyes were swollen so badly that she could barely see, and her awareness was starting to drift in and out.

Ororo's eyes were brimming in sympathy. "Jean? Is there anything we can do?"

"Rogue," Jean said gently, "concentrate on the sound of my voice. Ignore everything else. I'm going to try to put you in a light trance."

After over an hour of effort, Rogue was guided through a autohypnosis meditation that left her exhausted, but bought a bit of relief. She hung from her restraints limply, blessedly unconscious.

Henry, who had been studying their cell more closely, came to the conclusion that its appearance was a deception. Since his mutant abilities were not energy-based, his strength was unaffected by his collar. He was still, however, unable to break his restraints, despite the fact that they were set into ordinary sandstone, a substance he had broken on earlier occasions with only moderate effort. The shackles, therefore, were attached to something that was stronger than the sandstone. He informed Ororo of his findings.

"I think that we are actually within a complex containing advanced technology," he told her, "and that Apocalypse, for some unknown reason, wants us to think that this is a primitive installation."

"Any idea why?" Warren asked.

"I can make an educated guess," Bishop said. "If Will is going to rescue us, how will he get here?"

"He'll probably teleport," Scott replied.

"Right into this room," Bishop confirmed. "The question is, what's _outside_ this room? From our previous experience with Apocalypse, I'd say that it's some pretty heavy weaponry."

"Which Will won't know about, because if he uses Cerebro, he'll only detect us, and not the weaponry," Jean finished. "He _will_ be walking into a trap."

"And there's no way that we can warn him," Betsy added glumly.

"Couldn't his power fry out the electronics?" Bobby asked.

"I doubt it," Logan grunted, "not given the shape he's probably in."

The sentry for the north perimeter quadrant stopped his walking for a moment and wiped his head. He had learned long ago that the easiest way to stay cool in the desert was to shave his head and place a light cotton cap on. This allowed him to get as much advantage from evaporation as possible.

Water wasn't a problem, since Apocalypse had as much of it as he needed. The sentry didn't ask how this was done. Asking Apocalypse too many questions could prove hazardous to one's health. He took a short drink and continued on.

As he stared at the setting sun, his extra set of eyelids came down, reducing his field of vision to a smoky grey. He scanned the sky for any incoming objects, then lowered his gaze and let his sight return to normal.

He would never say so out loud, but he thought that Apocalypse was being a bit paranoid. The _X-Men_ had just fallen to him, for God's sake! The only other mutant on the planet who was anywhere near Apocalypse's power level now was Magneto, and he hadn't been seen in months. Apocalypse had no more real opposition, so what was the point of doubling the guard and taking a defensive position? They should have started preparations to wipe out the flatscans by now.

The sentry couldn't figure it out, but he decided that as long as he was still on Apocalypse's good side, things couldn't be that bad. It was time for him to make his report, anyway. He pulled the sleeve of his robe back and activated his communicator.

"Sentry North to Tactical. All clear. Over." He released the call button to receive confirmation.

All he got in response was static. "Damn junk," he muttered to himself. This was the third communicator that had fried from the heat. He took it off and examined it.

As he worked at the casing, the communicator shorted out, sending sparks flying and giving the sentry a mild shock. He cursed as he dropped it, then bent down to pick it up.

Before he could straighten up, a boot came down on his hand, crushing it. The sentry gasped in pain, then looked up. The only thing he saw was a fist, which smashed him in the face and sent him flying. He landed on his back, stunned.

A shadow fell across him, blocking the sun.

"_Do you serve En Sabah Nur?"_ it asked in a voice which echoed against the rocks.

"Y - yeah," he gasped.

"_Do you remove the weak?"_

"I... I do recon. I look for targets."

"_That is enough."_

Something in the shadow flashed for a moment, and it turned onto its side.

No, that wasn't right, the sentry realized. The _ground_ was turning onto its side. Then it was upside down, then right side up again...

By the time the sentry realized that his head was rolling down the hill, he was in no position to care.

The shadow moved on, becoming one with the approaching night.

Scott Summers prided himself on having an accurate internal clock. He was always able to tell, to within a few seconds, whether he was on time or late. While this made him a very punctual man (and a pain in the butt to those X-Men who liked to sleep in), it did have its drawbacks at times.

This was one of those times.

"How long until sunup, Scott?" Warren asked in a hopeless tone.

Scott exhaled. "About two hours."

"Who do you think will get chosen first?" Bobby whispered. He was awake, but still very hazy from the concussion.

"Try to avoid thinking about it," Ororo advised.

"There isn't much else to occupy our time," Betsy murmured.

Rogue, who had been unconscious, suddenly snapped her head up. "Did you hear that?" Her words were slurred due to her injuries.

"Hear what?" Jean asked.

Rogue closed her eyes.

"He's coming."

"Lord Apocalypse, there is a problem with the perimeter scanner in the north quadrant."

"Contact the sentry and have him repair it," Apocalypse replied in a distracted tone.

"His communicator's out again."

Apocalypse sighed. "Then activate the secondary scanners."

"Yes, Lord." The technician leapt over three rows of consoles, landing at the auxiliary controls. He tapped at the panel for a few moments. "Coming up now... damn."

"What is it?"

"They came up for a second, but then there was a power spike. Now I'm getting garbage from the system."

"Then send out an extra patrol!" Apocalypse snapped. "The strong do not depend on machines to do their work!"

"Yes, my Lord!" The technician activated the communications panel. "Alpha Unit, begin patrol in north..."

The speaker let out a piercing squeal, then blew out.

"What the hell..."

Apocalypse exhaled sharply. "If there is not a patrol out there in the next minute, I will send you to join the X-Men!"

"I'll go out there myself, my Lord!" The technician ran towards the main entrance.

Apocalypse walked over to the security monitors, which were in standby mode. "Status!" he barked.

The entire wall of monitors showed nothing but static. He narrowed his eyes.

"He has come back."

"He's back," Rogue muttered to herself.

"Rogue," Henry said gently, thinking that she was still delirious, "you have to try to stay calm."

"No! Look!" she urged them, as she motioned her head towards the lamp.

It was flickering.

"He's back."

The technician grabbed the first two people he ran into, and they hurried through the vehicle bay towards the main door, a massive block of omnium steel weighing thirty tons.

"You get the code," he instructed the man on his right, as he locked and loaded his weapon, a plasma cannon designed to interface with his powers.

The soldier tapped at the keypad. "It's not responding."

"Then use the damn manual override!"

The bay was filled by a sudden breeze. They all looked out at the open desert.

One second later, the door landed on them.

"_That will not be necessary."_

The cell door opened , admitting Apocalypse and five others, each of whom carried a pistol.

"Your execution dates have been moved up," Apocalypse informed the X-Men.

"He's back, isn't he?" Logan asked bluntly.

"Unfortunately for you, he is too late." Apocalypse gestured for the five men to line up in front of Ororo, Jean, Scott, Betsy, and Warren. "You need not bother with any last requests."

"I love you, Scott," Jean whispered.

A second later, there was screaming.

Fortunately for the X-Men, it was the guards who were doing the screaming.

They were all missing their right arms, and were dropping to the floor, succumbing to shock.

They all stopped screaming. This wasn't due as much to any stoicism on their part as the fact that their heads disappeared one second later.

Apocalypse stared at the bodies for a moment, then raised his voice, speaking so that he could be heard throughout the complex.

"This does you no good! I will kill them myself! You will not allow that!"

The lamp exploded into sparks, plunging the room into darkness.

"You are weak!" Apocalypse continued. "You are unfit!"

There was a tearing sound.

"_You talk too much."_

A moment later, the room was bathed in light from the hole that Apocalypse made in the wall. He didn't make the hole intentionally. It was simply a natural result of being thrown through it.

Archetype stood in the middle of the room, his eyes ablaze. He was dressed in his uniform, which was drenched with blood, as was his sword.

He strode out of the room, heading straight for Apocalypse. He glanced at all of the equipment and computers on the walls, inclining his head. The electronics all shorted out in an explosion of sparks, then vanished, reappearing in a large mass about twenty feet in the air. Archetype gestured, and a mass of about seventy tons landed directly on Apocalypse's chest, driving him through the floor.

Archetype hurried back into the cell, then stared at the X-Men.

"_This may hurt,"_ he warned them as his eyes flashed yet again.

Their collars shorted out, stinging and burning them, then fell off. A moment later, their shackles vanished, and they all slid off the wall.

Rogue started to collapse to the ground, but Archetype caught her, cradling her in his arms. His expression turned from rage to grief as he saw her condition. He walked over to Henry and handed her to him.

"_You have to get out of here,"_ he informed them. _"Go left and then take the second right. Do what you can to help her once you get out."_

"Where are you going?" Ororo asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

He stared at the pile of wreckage in the next room, which was already beginning to move.

"_This is not over."_

"Will, no," Jean pleaded. "You have to get out of here."

Archetype looked at her for a moment, then gave her a sad smile.

"_Jean, this battle was ten years in the making. Turning back now would be a waste of a good investment."_ He pointed towards the way out. _"Please go. I have a task to complete."_ He turned away and walked towards his opponent.

"He's right, Jeannie," Logan said, grabbing her arm. "This place is falling apart." Indeed, most of the systems in the complex were failing, and explosions could be heard nearby.

Jean glanced back at Archetype for a moment, then picked up everyone in a telekinetic field and flew them out of the complex as fast as she could.

Archetype stood, waiting.

A section of the wreckage started to glow, then melt. Apocalypse pushed his way through the slag, then stood up, glaring at him. He put his fingers to the hole in his chest. "You will have to do better than that," he advised.

"_I agree_," Archetype said in a neutral tone. "_Something more original is called for_."

Apocalypse experienced a sudden yank, then felt his body and mind being smeared over half the continent of Asia, then compacted into the size of a small thimble, over and over again. He screamed.

"_Already_?" Archetype asked in a pleasant tone. "_But the night is young_."

Apocalypse landed on the floor in a heap, trembling.

"_You have killed countless people over the past four thousand years,"_ Archetype informed him. _"A few of them would like to have some words with you."_

A raging pain erupted in the base of Apocalypse's skull, spreading throughout his mind. A wave of pure hate and malice, fueled over forty long centuries, burned within his head. He gasped with pain. Desperately, he tried to shape his right hand into some sort of weapon to use against Archetype.

"_That simply cannot be allowed,"_ Archetype declared.

Apocalypse screamed anew as, with a dismissive gesture, Archetype teleported his hand off.

"_Now that I have your full attention," _Archetype announced as he sat down on a large piece of rubble, _"I will explain some things to you."_

"_I am not your equal, En Sabah Nur. I am, by far, your superior. You are, regardless of how much personal power you acquire, only one man. I, in contrast, have access to the power of the whole of humanity - everyone who is, everyone who was - and, perhaps, everyone who may yet be."_

"_You have wasted the past four thousand years on a fool's quest - to impose your warped, pseudo-scientific visions on humanity. I speak of all humans, mutant or otherwise. Your actions go against the natural order. I intend to prove to you that Mother Nature, when ignored, can be a truly vindictive bitch."_

"I... will... kill you!" Apocalypse gasped.

"_We will meet in battle three more times,"_ Archetype continued, as if he had not been interrupted. _"These battles will determine whose vision will shape the future. In our final meeting, one of us will destroy the other. Until that day, I will thwart your every scheme and counter your every move."_

"_I am going to leave you now,"_ he said as he stood up_, "but I believe that a final parting gesture is in order."_

Archetype smiled._ "Prepare yourself, En Sabah Nur. Your life just became infinitely more complicated." _He vanished.

As soon as the X-Men got out of the complex, they made a beeline for the high ground. Jean set everyone down behind a massive boulder, taking care to set both Rogue and Bobby down gently, laying them flat.

"Can you see anything, Logan?" Ororo asked. Of them all, Logan had the best night vision.

"Not a damn thing," Logan replied, looking back at the complex. "The lights just died."

"How will we get back?" Betsy asked. "We have no idea where we are."

"Let's worry about the basics first, Betsy," Scott advised her. "We have to know who wins this thing before we can make any other plans."

They were all silent for the next few minutes, watching the complex.

"Do you think we'll get any sort of signal?" Warren asked.

A plume of dust shot out of the door they had escaped through, followed by a massive rumble.

"I think that answers your question," Bishop told Warren.

The next minute looked like something in slow motion. The center of the complex started to sag, then collapse. The sinkhole slowly widened, engulfing the complex, which sank into the desert in a massive cloud of sand and dust, a cloud that rapidly widened to include the X-Men.

They all choked for a few minutes until the cloud thinned out a bit, then peered into the void left by the vanished mesa.

"Anybody see anything?" Scott asked.

"Nothing," Warren replied.

They all continued searching for a few minutes, then gave up. "No sign of either of them," Henry concluded glumly.

A gloved hand suddenly appeared at the edge of the hill, which pulled up the rest of a very battered and dusty Archetype.

_"Shame on all of you,"_ he gasped. _"You have to show a bit of faith. Otherwise, this concept of team unity simply will not work."_


	28. Chapter 28

"Why are we so far away?" Ororo asked Archetype. They and the others had just walked through a Door, and were within visual range of the mansion. It was, however, still a good walk away.

_"You are going to need the medical equipment,"_ he replied. _"If I come too near to the mansion, I may disrupt it."_

Henry nodded. "Smart decision. Jean, we'll take them directly to medlab. Betsy, do you feel well enough to assist?"

"I'm fine," Betsy assured him.

"Scott, you and I should debrief Charles," Ororo advised. "Everyone else go down to the complex. Standard returning procedures. Bishop, Logan, you take care of..." Her voice trailed off for a moment and she looked around wildly. "Where is the Blackbird?"

_"My fault,"_ Archetype admitted._ "Wait one moment."_ He tilted his head to the side for a few seconds. _"You will find it in the hanger."_

"Thank you," Ororo said in relief. "For a moment, I thought that we would have to go back for it."

"What are you going to do?" Jean asked Archetype.

_"I have to ground myself,"_ he replied_. "If my powers stay at this level much longer, I may not be able to function."_ He sat, cross-legged, on the ground, and closed his eyes. _"I may be out here for a while,"_ he warned them. After a moment, his head drooped down.

"All right," Ororo ordered, "everyone to your duty stations."

* * *

"Charles, are you all right?" Scott asked.

Charles nodded dumbly. "This is going to take a while for me to digest. I knew that Will was powerful, but this..."

"He indicated to us that this is a temporary state," Ororo informed him. "He is trying to reduce his power to a level that he can manage."

"Did he say how long that would take?"

She shook her head. "Did he give you any information while he was here?"

Xavier gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't he come back here?" Scott pressed.

"I didn't hear from any of you until you called me from the Blackbird."

"Then where did he go to heal?" Ororo asked in a perplexed voice.

"I don't know," Xavier admitted. "We'll ask him when he comes in. Right now, we have more important things to worry about." He activated the intercom on his desk. "Xavier to Henry. How are Bobby and Rogue?"

_"Both stable,"_ was the reply. Henry's weariness was evident in his voice. _"Bobby is still stunned, but will be fine, assuming that he is given enough rest. Rogue is in better condition than I had expected. Apocalypse's disinfection of her wounds, however brutal in application, was highly effective. I have initiated dermal and skeletal regeneration. She should be up and about in two to three days, although I would suggest that she remain off duty for at least a week beyond that."_

"Don't worry about that," Xavier assured him. "As soon as everyone is sufficiently rested, I'm putting all of you on leave."

"Is that wise, Charles?" Ororo asked with some concern.

"Maybe not, but it's the right thing to do. You've all been put through the wringer, and I'm not about to put you back in the field until you've had some recovery time." He knitted his fingers together. "This might be a good time to take Will up on his offer."

"Of what?" Scott asked.

"Remember his first day here? He said that we were welcome to use his safehouses if we wanted to. I think that this may be a good opportunity to take advantage of them."

_"Very sensible, Charles,"_ Henry commented.

"I agree," Ororo added.

"I suppose that Jean and I could go visit her parents for a while," Scott mused.

"We'll discuss it with everyone tomorrow," Xavier decided. "Right now, I want everyone to get some sleep."

* * *

Xavier set the mansion security on automatic for the evening, since none of the X-Men were in any condition to stay up through the night. Therefore, no one noticed the front door opening at about one in the morning.

Archetype walked in quietly, his boots in his hands. Padding through the foyer, he made his way towards the elevator. He removed his coat as he descended, slinging it over one arm.

When the elevator reached the sub-levels, he walked straight towards the medical wing. Before entering it, however, he picked up a scanner that Bishop had left on a cart in the hall for calibration. He activated it, watching it run through a diagnostic cycle, then put it back down.

He tiptoed past Henry, who was dozing in the bunk that had been placed in his office. Upon entering the infirmary, he stopped.

Rogue lay sedated, her breathing now steady. The swelling around her eyes was starting to subside, and her cuts had scabbed, making her look worse than she had when she had arrived at the mansion.

Archetype looked at her for a long time, unmoving, then placed his coat and boots on a nearby table. He wheeled a chair to the foot of her bed, then sat down, placing his sword in his lap. His drowsy eyes glimmered dimly in the shadows.

"If I'd known that this was going to happen," he asked himself in a whisper, "could I have gone there anyway?"

He still had no answer when Henry came in.

* * *

"Rogue?"

She opened her eyes slowly and painfully, finding that her vision was blurry. "Yeah, Hank?"

"You need to take your medication," he informed her softly, as he offered her a small paper cup and a glass of water.

She sat up slowly, gasping from aches in various parts of her head and body. As she downed the pills, she noticed Will slumped in the chair in front of her. "When...?" she started to ask.

"About one last night, according to the computer," Henry replied. "I was asleep, so I never heard him enter. I thought it best not to wake him."

"He's just been sitting here watching me?"

"I think that standing guard would be a closer description."

"What time is it now?"

"About six in the morning. Do you want me to wake him?"

She thought about it for a moment. "No. Let him stay." She settled back down into the sheets. "It's nice to know that he's nearby, worrying about me." She started to nod off again. "Like having a guardian angel..."

Henry thought about that for a moment. "Just what we've been looking for. An angel who carries a sword one moment and whips up a creme brulee the next."

"Cute, Hank," she murmured. "Really cute."

* * *

A few hours later, she awoke on her own. Will still sat in the chair. His eyes were lidded, and his face unreadable. His weariness, however, could not be hidden.

"Hi," she said sleepily.

He was silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Running away. Letting you get hurt." His expression twisted into one of anguish. "I never wanted anyone to be hurt."

"But you came back for us," she reminded him.

He shook his head violently. "You don't understand. When I came back, all I wanted to do was get to Apocalypse. You - all of you - were just distractions. It took everything I had in me to pay attention to you long enough to release you." His hands started to tremble. "I almost left you there."

"But you didn't," she pressed. "You freed us. No matter how close a call it was, you did the right thing."

She could see that she wasn't reaching him. He was withdrawing, collapsing under a burden of self-blame and guilt. "Will," she said gently but firmly, "c'mere."

He stared at her for a moment, then, seeing the resolve in her eyes, complied.

She took his sleeve and linked her arm with his. "How were you able to heal so quickly?"

He hesitated for a few moments. "I pushed my powers way beyond any of my previous limits. I'm going to be paying for that pretty soon."

"It shows," she told him. "Was stopping him the only reason you did that?"

"No," he admitted. "I had to get back and help you."

"And when you saw what he'd done?"

His face hardened. "I wanted to tear his heart out - assuming he has one."

"So it was your concern about us that was driving you."

He digested that. "I guess it was."

"And it wasn't until after you saw us that you became..." she searched for the proper term.

"Homicidal?" he suggested.

"That's as good a word as any," she decided. "You made the right decisions, you did the right thing. So stop blaming yourself. _I_ sure don't blame you."

"Now," she suggested, "you're dead on your feet, you look like you haven't eaten, and you're covered with dust. Go get a bite to eat, take a shower, and go to bed. We'll talk again when we're both feeling a bit better, okay?"

He nodded wearily. "Can I make you something to eat before I head up?"

"Hank has me on hospital food for the next few days. Why don't you make a nice dinner for both of us when we're both up to it?"

He smiled. "That sounds great." He put two gloved fingers to his lips, then placed them on hers. Stepping away from her bed, he picked up his things and made his way towards the door.

Just before he left the room, he turned around. "Don't worry about any nightmares. _Nothing's_ going to disturb your dreams while I'm around."

Rogue watched him leave, a contented smile on her face. Satisfied, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Three days later, after everyone had some time to laze around for a while, Xavier met with Will for an hour or so, then called everyone to the living room.

"After what everyone has been through, I thought it would be best if we all got a break. Will has volunteered the use of his safe houses for everyone to use for a vacation." He nodded at Will to continue.

Will pulled out a small binder. "I'd like to do this one at a time to avoid any confusion. Hank, you wanted to visit your parents, and Jean and Scott have plans to visit her folks. Warren, you and Betsy are going to New York?"

"Right," Warren confirmed. "We'll be staying at my place."

Will nodded. "Ororo, do you have anywhere in mind?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I was planning on someplace warm."

Will leafed through his notebook for a moment. "How does a bungalow in the Cayman Islands sound? You'll have to put up with tourists in town, but the house itself is pretty secluded."

Ororo smiled warmly. "That sounds lovely. What's the local currency?"

"That won't be a problem," he assured her. "All my safe houses have a small vault. I'll give you each the combination before you leave. The vault contains five thousand U.S. dollars, the equivalent in local currency, and the same in gold. Just give me a ballpark figure on what you spent when you get back."

After deciding on Washington DC for Bishop (who expressed a desire to see the Smithsonian Institution and the monuments) and the Poconos for Bobby (who wanted to get some skiing in), Will went up to his room, coming down a few minutes later with a sheaf of papers. "The security systems on the houses are all operated with keypads. The first code is for the door, the second one is for the vault. If you give me another hour or so, I can set up your travel arrangements."

"We can take care of that," Ororo assured him.

Will turned to Logan. "How about you?"

Logan got up. "I could use a few days in Madripoor. I'll make my own arrangements. Appreciate the offer, though. Think I'll go pack." He headed for the stairs.

"What about you?" Bobby asked Will.

"I'm going to stay here. I'm going to be resting for the next few days, and I can do that here as well as anywhere else. Besides, I promised Rogue I'd stay nearby."

There were a few hidden smiles at that remark, but no one was impolite enough to say anything.

* * *

A few hours later, everyone had packed up and left for New York, where they would split up and head for their respective destinations. Will's offer of teleportation had been politely declined, and the school van seemed to bulge at the sides as it rolled away.

Will closed the front door with an audible sigh of relief, then looked at Xavier. "You had a team of teenagers here at one point, right?"

"Yes."

"Along with a full team of X-Men."

"Yes."

"Whatever you were smoking at the time, I want to try it."

* * *

Xavier and Will agreed that the lack of distraction awarded them both an opportunity to get caught up on their respective 'to do' lists.

"So you won't get offended if I'm holed up in my office for the next few days?" Xavier asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Will confessed.

"Did Hank give you any instructions regarding Rogue's recovery?"

He nodded. "He wants her to rest. I had to swear that I wouldn't let her get too excited. Fortunately, I was able to convince him to lift her dietary restrictions, since I promised her a dinner when she was feeling better. After she's eaten, I'll see what I can do to convince her to hit the sack early."

"Good idea. Why don't you bring my dinner to my office? That should keep us from bothering one another."

"You think of everything."

"Somebody has to."

* * *

"Come in," Rogue answered to the knock at her door.

Will walked in, dressed in a navy shirt, kakhi Dockers, and olive jacket and tie. He clicked his heels, his face deadpan. "Dinner is served, Madam."

"I'm not old enough to be a Madam," she protested.

"Oh, I don't know," he drawled. "I think you could get an escort service up and running within a year if you really worked at it."

"I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered by that remark."

I'm feeding you, dear. Give me the benefit of the doubt."

"I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Take your time. Xavier's eating in his office, so you're not holding anyone up." He shut the door behind him.

Rogue slowly got out of bed, wincing slightly from the stiffness in her chest, and padded over to her closet, removing a forest green flannel robe. She started to put it on, then paused for a moment. Her face hardened, and she put the robe back on the hanger, removing another garment which was still wrapped in plastic. She then went to her dresser, rummaging through one particular drawer.

"Madam, my ass..."

* * *

Will placed the last serving dish on the table and lit the candles, checking one last time to make sure that he had remembered everything. He blinked, then rushed over to the china cabinet, removing a bud vase and placing it on the table. He then dug through a pants pocket, pulling out a ten dollar bill. He teleported away, then reappeared about one minute later, a pink long-stemmed rose in his hand.

"Only in New York would there be a twenty-four hour florist," he said to himself as he placed the rose in the vase and put on his gloves.

He heard Rogue descend the stairs, and turned around to greet her. "Party for two?" he asked "Do you have a reserva-..." His voice trailed off.

She wore a turquoise nightdress, covered by a black satin evening robe. A pair of black stiletto heels complemented the grey hose which she had donned. She had brushed her hair until it glowed, and had put on just enough makeup to accentuate her lips and eyes.

Will looked at her for a few moments, unable to say anything. "You look beautiful," was all he could manage.

Rogue smiled, enjoying the effect she was having on him. "Is all this for me?" she asked innocently.

Will blinked for a moment, trying to jump start his brain back into action. "Yes. Yes it is. Please, sit down." He pulled back her chair, and she settled gracefully into it.

Will recomposed himself, and uncovered the serving trays. "This evening, we have Cornish game hen with wild rice stuffing, honey glazed carrots, cranberry walnut relish, and for dessert, chocolate chip cheesecake."

Rogue looked at the ice bucket near the table, which held a wine bottle. "And our beverage?"

Will removed the bottle from the ice and showed the label to her. "Sparkling apple cider." He unwrapped the foil and popped the cork, filling both their glasses. Sitting down, he lifted his glass. Rogue did the same. "What should we toast to?" he asked.

"How about more nights like this?"

They clinked their glasses together.

* * *

Later, after the meal, Will started a fire in the parlor fireplace, and they both relaxed on the couch. Rogue settled her head into Will's lap, staring into the flames of the fire. "Will?"

"Yes?"

"What happened to you after you teleported away?"

There was no sound for a moment, other that the crackling of the fire.

"I went somewhere where I could heal and recharge."

"Where was that?"

"Remember the cave?"

"The one under your house?"

"That's the one. I went there, and then went someplace else."

"Where's that?"

"A place like where I met the Sidhe."

"But not the same place?"

"Not exactly the same, but very similar. When I was there, I was able to draw on a lot of power at once. When I was ready, I came back to the house, changed into a fresh uniform, and went after you."

"Why did you take time to change?"

"There wasn't much left of what I'd been wearing."

"How badly were you burned?"

"A few oil drums full of Bactine would have been useful."

"Ouch."

"Ouch is right."

She was silent for a moment. "You said that you'll be paying for healing so quickly. What did you mean?"

"It's a question of balance. I've just been through a long period where my powers and awareness were supercharged. I have to enter a low period before I can even out to a normal state."

"You mean your powers are going to decrease?"

"Drastically. And that's going to affect me both physically and psychologically."

She squirmed around on the couch until she could look him in the face. "How?"

"Well, the most important symptom will be the psychological one - depression. _Severe_ depression."

"How bad will it get?"

"Loss of appetite. Fatigue. Withdrawal. Dysthemia."

"What's that?"

"A lack of emotional feeling and connection. I'll probably just lie in my bed for a few days, staring at the ceiling." He glanced down at her. "That's my ulterior motive for sending everybody on vacation."

"I'm lost," she confessed.

"I've hit several lows between the time my powers developed and when I came here. Every other time, I've been away from other people, so I really don't have any idea what the effect will be on the people around me - and that's information that the X-Men are going to need. Xavier has the defenses to block me, if necessary, and you're very resistant to psychic influence. Combined, you're the perfect people to keep an eye on me."

"So you sent everybody else away to avoid putting them into a funk?"

"Exactly. Besides," he admitted, "I'll feel better knowing that you're nearby."

"That's sweet," she murmured.

"I do my humble best."

They didn't talk for quite some time, choosing instead to stare into the fire, watching the sparks dance up into the chimney. "Will," Rogue finally said, breaking the silence, "thank you."

"For what?"

"For all this. For bending over backwards to make me comfortable. For letting me in."

"Letting you in where?"

"You. I know that it's not easy for you to talk about what you're feeling, and what happens to you. But you do it for me. That means a lot."

"I _want_ to do it. I need to talk about some of this stuff, even if I can't explain it properly. You're the first person I've ever been comfortable enough with to do that."

She smiled at that and snuggled a bit deeper into his lap. "I wanted to ask you something," she remembered.

"What's that?"

"After Apocalypse beat me up, Jean put me into a trance so that I could get a bit of rest. While my mind was drifting, I felt... something. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that you were coming. Do you know what that was?"

He frowned for a moment, thinking. "Maybe. I've told you that I experience the Chorus as music, right?"

"Right."

"Well, maybe when my power increased, my role in the symphony became 'louder', and since you were in a trance, you were a bit more attuned to the Chorus. You were able to hear my music, because you've been around me enough to become familiar with it at some deep level."

"That makes sense," she said, nodding. Then she yawned.

"Looks like it's time for you to go back to bed," Will commented.

"I'm fine," Rogue protested feebly.

"Sure you are. You need to rest if you're going to heal properly. Believe me, no one knows about the role of sleep in the healing process the way I do." He helped her sit up slightly as he wriggled out from under her and stood up. He then gathered her up in his arms.

"I can walk," she told him.

"I'm sure you can. But I'm in charge of your recovery until Henry gets back, or unless Xavier vetoes me, and right now I say that you're in no condition to handle the stairs."

"I could fly."

"No," he said sternly as he started up the staircase. "No powers for the next few days. That's something that Henry was very firm on. Therefore, like it or not, you are going to be pampered for the next few days. And just so you know, you're going to have breakfast in bed in the morning, so don't bother trying to come down before I make sure you've had a good meal. After breakfast, I'm going to plant you in the recliner in front of the TV, and you're going to either read, watch a movie - tell me if there's something at the video store that you want to see and I'll go get it - or let your brain atrophy watching soaps. If you try anything even remotely physically active, I'm going to have to punish you."

"Are you going to spank me?" she asked in a little girl voice, her eyes wide.

"Now _there's_ a thought," he replied as he entered her room. He looked around for a moment. "What happened in here?"

_Oops_, Rogue thought to herself. She hadn't cleaned up after her search for something to wear, and a chaotic jumble of stockings, slips, and other unmentionables was scattered throughout her room. "I was looking for something," she told him as her face reddened.

"I can accept that explanation," he replied. "I guess I have to. It's either that or a Victoria's Secret shipment found its way here by mistake." He teleported the items that were on her bed on top of a chair, and set her gently onto her bed. "Can you think of anything that you need? I'm going to get my food shopping done in Europe."

"Can you find a good Brie cheese? I love Brie."

"No problem. Now get to sleep." He removed a cellular phone from his pocket. "If you need to get me, speed dial one. I'll have my phone on me while I'm off the grounds, and it's programmed to reach me anywhere in the world. Sweet dreams," he told her as he started to close the door behind him.

"Uh, Will," she said just before the door was totally shut, "I just thought of something."

"What's that?" he said as he peered back into the room.

"Well, with Henry gone, and all the other X-Women with him, we may have a problem."

"And that is?"

She put one hand to her chest. "Who's going to change my bandages?"

The look on Will's face, she decided, was priceless.


	29. Chapter 29

"Good morning, Will," Xavier said cheerfully as he entered the kitchen.

Will's response was a bleary glare. "You are a member of the unnatural race known as the Morning People. I am obliged, under the rules of peace and quiet, to kill you in a very bloody and grotesque manner."

"You can go back to sleep if you want," Xavier pointed out.

"I'm planning on it, but I have a few things to get done first." He paused a moment. "That reminds me, I have a problem to talk with you about."

"What's that?"

"Rogue reminded me last night that her dressings will need to be changed. Who do I call in town to do that?"

Xavier frowned. "I'd prefer not to call on my contacts for something that trivial. Can't you do it?"

"I _can_, but I'd prefer not to if I can help it."

"Why?"

Will grimaced. "Rogue and I are still trying to hammer out the details of our relationship. I don't want to jeopardize anything by appearing to take liberties."

"I'm sure that she doesn't see it that way. Just keep it professional."

"Xavier, I may be able to access medical knowledge through the Chorus, but my actual experience in the field is sketchy at best. I'm going to be feeling my way through this." He sighed. "That was _not_ the choice of words that I was looking for."

"I'm certain that you'll do fine. Rogue will be wearing a dampening collar, so her powers won't be a problem. You won't short it out accidentally, will you?"

"I couldn't fry an egg without a pan right now." He stood up. "Time to get started on breakfast. Do you have any objection to Belgian waffles with cherry preserves?"

"You won't get any complaints from me."

* * *

Rogue awoke to a light tapping on her door. "Come in," she called.

Will entered with a tray in his hands and a paper under one shoulder. "Rise and shine," he told her.

She examined the contents of the tray as she sat up. "Belgian waffles, apple juice, grapefruit, and hot tea? I haven't had this much to eat for breakfast in months."

"Your body's going to need the nutrients to repair itself," he told her as he handed her a napkin. "And given the time, this is closer to a brunch. After you've eaten, we'll go down to the infirmary and take care of those bandages."

Rogue stuck out her lower lip, pouting. "I was sort of hoping I could take a nice hot shower today."

He frowned. "I don't see how. Let me give MacTaggart a buzz and see if she has an opinion. I'll take care of it while you're eating."

* * *

_"A shower?"_ Moria said.

"That's right, Doctor," Will said. "I want to know if Rogue will be running any risks by doing without the bandages for a half hour or so."

_"Can you send me the medical file?"_

"Give me a minute." Will typed at the terminal for a few moments. "Sending now."

There was a slight pause while Moria uploaded the file and reviewed it. She shook her head. _"I'd prefer that she avoid stretching - or standing, for that matter - for any length of time. She's better off taking a bath."_

Will nodded. "All right. She'll be annoyed that she can't do her hair, though."

Moria shrugged. _"No problem. The dampening collar that she has is waterproof. You do it for her."_

Will blinked. "Excuse me?"

_"Wash her hair for her,"_ Moria repeated patiently._ "Sit her in front of her sink and have her lean back. Trust me, Will, she'll **adore** you for it. For some women, getting their hair done is the next best thing to sex."_

"I'll take your word for it," he said dubiously, running his fingers through his own hair, which was cut rather short. "Thanks for the help. I'll let you know if there's any problems. I'd better warn you now - if there's an emergency, I may not have time to ask before teleporting you here."

_"Understood,"_ Moria replied_. "Muir Isle out."_

* * *

"So no shower?" Rogue asked.

"That's right," Will confirmed from his seat at the foot of her bed. "That's the bad news. The good news, for you, is that means that I'll be doing your hair."

Rogue's eyes brightened at that.

"Let me know when you're done with your bath," Will said as he stood up, "and then I'll take care of it."

"You forgot something," she pointed out.

"What's that?" he asked as he picked up the tray.

"I have to get the old bandages off first."

"Uh, right," he said, suddenly uneasy. "Let me go get some surgical scissors."

"Okay. I'll dig out my collar."

"You know, there are certain clubs in New York where that statement would have an entirely different meaning."

"Cute."

Will returned a few minutes later, with the scissors in his shirt pocket. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," said Rogue, who had changed into her robe and latched the collar around her neck. "Should I just sit at the edge of the bed?"

"That's probably best," Will agreed.

Rogue sat cross-legged on one corner of the bed, turning so that her back was to Will. She then pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her robe, pushing it so that it slid down, exposing her bare back.

"The scissors may be cold," Will warned as he slid one blade under the bandages and began cutting.

Rogue flinched involuntarily from the metal as the tension of the bandages increased slightly. "You almost done?" she asked.

"Almost," he replied. "Henry wrapped these pretty thick."

"Tell me about it. I've been sweating like a pig under them."

"There," he said as he cut through the last bit of wrapping. Rogue took a deep breath as the pressure subsided. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes. Enjoy your bath."

"Is there any gunk on my back?" she asked as she stripped off the bandages.

"Just a little iodine." He stood up. "I'll be down in the infirmary putting together what I'll need. Buzz me on the intercom if you need me." He shut the door behind him.

Rogue stood up, letting her robe fall to her feet as she did so. She bent down gingerly and picked it up, then entered her bathroom and turned on the water in the tub. She poured a capful of her bubble bath into the water, pulled out her favorite fluffy towel, and placed both it and the robe on the towel rack next to the tub.

She looked in the mirror and took a long look at herself. Her eyes were a little puffy, she decided, and a facial peel probably couldn't hurt. She pulled one out of the cabinet and applied it, scrubbing it deeply into her skin. She then removed the collar, stepped into the tub, and sank into the water with a sigh, letting the froth of bubbles surround her and allowing the heat to penetrate her aching muscles.

A few minutes of scrubbing allowed her to remove the remaining adhesive from her skin. She washed the accumulated fatigue of two days of inactivity off, peeled off the mask, then lay back and relaxed.

All too soon, she heard a knock at the bedroom door. A moment later, it opened up just a crack. "I hate to tell you this, but time's up," Will's voice called in.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," she replied. "Give me a minute."

"No problem." The door shut again.

She stepped out of the tub and toweled herself dry, slithered into a pair of sweatpants, then put both the robe and the collar back on. "Okay," she called.

Will entered, a light jacket slung over one arm and a small hose and nozzle in his hand. "This is a fleece sweatshirt of mine," he told her. "I thought it would be comfortable enough for you to lounge around in." He dropped it on the bed.

"Thanks." She pulled the chair into the bathroom and placed it in front of the sink. She then sat down, leaning the chair back until she was looking at the vanity mirror. "The shampoo's on the top shelf."

Will got the shampoo out, then attached the hose to the end of the faucet. He turned on the water, which ran through the hose, leaving the nozzle in a fine mist. Will adjusted the temperature, then started running the water through Rogue's hair. "Let me know if it's too hot," he advised her.

"No, that's perfect," she informed him.

After a minute or two of saturating her hair, Will squirted a generous amount of shampoo onto his palm and worked it into Rogue's scalp. Rogue didn't say anything, simply humming contentedly as she reveled in the tactile sensation.

Will kept his mind on business, concentrating on making sure that he didn't miss anywhere. After a few minutes, he rinsed Rogue's hair clean, wrapped her hair in a towel, and helped her sit up facing the mirror. He picked up her hairbrush and plugged in the dryer, then started brushing her hair. "Do you put anything in your hair?" he asked politely.

"No, I just brush it back," she replied.

He nodded and turned on the dryer, brushing her hair towards him as he dried it.

Since Rogue's hair nearly reached her waist, it took quite a while to dry. Rogue closed her eyes as she enjoyed the attention, ignoring Will's occasional accidental snagging of a knot of hair, which took him a while to loosen.

"Finished," he eventually said. "Next stop, the infirmary." He gathered her in his arms again, and they both left the bedroom and headed towards the elevator. "Can you get that?" he asked, nodding towards the elevator button. She pressed the button and the elevator door opened.

They arrived on the first sub-basement floor about a minute later, and Will took a sharp left as soon as they exited the elevator. After passing through two automatic doors, they entered the infirmary. Will sat Rogue down on one of the recovery beds, where he had placed several rolls of gauze and some surgical tape.

"Now," Will said in a businesslike tone as he walked around the bed to the other side, "if I'm making the bandages too tight, or doing anything else that makes you uncomfortable, let me know."

"Don't worry about that," she promised. "I'll probably just deck you."

"I'd prefer a warning first, if you don't mind." He unrolled about two feet from one roll of gauze. "All set," he told her.

Rogue nodded and removed the robe, then raised her arms slightly. Will placed the end of the gauze directly on her spine and started winding it clockwise around her chest. "Take a deep breath," he advised her.

Rogue complied. Will made several passes with the gauze, binding Rogue's chest and restricting the movement of her battered ribs. Rogue winced slightly at one point. "Too tight?" he asked her.

"No," she replied. "I'm okay."

"Almost done." He cut and taped the last of the wrappings. "There you go," he told her as he handed her the sweatshirt.

"Thanks," Rogue said as she put it on. She removed the collar and rubbed her neck, grimacing.

"Are you okay?"

"This damn thing always makes my neck ache," she complained.

"We can take care of that," Will told her. He walked over to a dispenser and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, snapping them on. He rummaged through the cabinets for a brief time, producing a large bottle. "Liquid heat," he told her as he placed a small amount on his hands. "Where does it hurt?"

She touched the back of her neck. "All along here."

Will placed his thumbs on her spine and pressed firmly as he supported his jaw with her fingers. "That help at all?"

"_Much_ better," she purred in reply, as warmth sank deeply into her muscles.

Will slowly guided Rogue's head from side to side, tilted it forward and back while supporting her neck and forehead, and finally rolled it both clockwise and counterclockwise. "How do you feel now?" he asked her as he broke contact.

"One hundred percent better," she told him with a smile.

"Let's get you upstairs, then."

A few minutes later, Rogue was seated in one of the easy chairs in the living room, with the TV remote, a plate of snacks, and a stack of magazines on a nearby table. "I'll be in my room if you want anything," he told her as he rolled a footrest over. "Just buzz me and I'll be right down."

"No problem," she said. "I'm just going to veg out for a while. I might even take a nap."

"While you're sitting up?"

"I'm so used to grabbing a nap in the Blackbird that I can sleep in almost any chair now."

"If you say so," he replied as he tucked a blanket around her. "Enjoy yourself."

Rogue smiled and turned on the TV.

* * *

Xavier, meanwhile, had spent the morning speaking with his brokers and attorneys, catching up on the financial and legal details that were necessary for the upkeep of the Institute and the school. A lengthy, but productive, conference call with Sean Cassidy and Emma Frost had updated him on the status of the students and their academic standings.

As he reviewed the extensive files that Emma had e-mailed him regarding Jonothon Starsmore, his phone rang. He glanced at the phone display, then pressed a button underneath his desk, locking the office door.

He picked up the phone. "Hello, Valerie."

_"Charles, what the hell are your people doing up there?"_

Charles smiled. He had few amusements in his life, but keeping Valerie Cooper frustrated was among his favorites. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage, Val."

_"Oh, don't give me that! There was a burst of energy in Syria that my people say is consistent with Apocalypse's power signature. We get nothing more for nine hours, then we get **another** energy burst, this time in Ireland, with a different signature. An hour after that, we get **both** signatures in the same place, again in Syria. After they die down, we get a satellite photo of the area, and an entire mountain range has just vanished from the map!_

_"Now, Charles, you tell me right now - **what happened**?"_

Xavier sighed. "Val, you'd better pour yourself a drink. You're going to need it."

* * *

Will read his weekly correspondence, discarding the obvious junk and tossing it into one of the three piles he had devised to classify his mail - refused, compost, and tinder. He then called his attorney in Dublin and reviewed the investment strategy which he wanted to follow for the next financial quarter. After he hung up, he sat back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Fatigue was starting to set in. He had known that it was only a matter of time, but he'd hoped to avoid facing both it and the depression at the same time. This wasn't going to make things any easier for Rogue, Xavier, or himself.

Or could it be, he pondered, that his fatigue was a symptom of the depression?

He dropped that line of thought, deciding that it was a chicken-and-egg problem, and turned to his personal mail. It contained the usual group of requests from foundations and organizations asking for donations. They were marked REFUSED on the front. To each group, Will sent a letter requesting removal from their mailing list. He included a check for ten thousand dollars with each letter (Will had no objection to giving money to charity - he simply disliked being bothered by people. Besides, he hated wasting paper, and considered repeated mailings a major culprit in world pollution).

There were a few social invitations, to such things as charity dinners and gallery openings. Will was about to send them polite refusals, but decided that it might be a good idea to ask Rogue if she was interested in going to any of them first.

Having finished the paperwork, he settled into his chair, wincing as he did so. He'd been careful not to reveal his assorted aches and pains to Rogue, although he suspected that Xavier knew. Fortunately, they would fade away with time, as his healing abilities stabilized. In the meantime, however, it was damn annoying.

He stood up slowly, leaning against the desk for support, switched off his light, and limped over to his bed. He gingerly sat down and undressed, throwing his clothes into a corner. Pulling back the sheets, he crawled underneath them and pulled them over his head.

A few minutes later, he began trembling.

* * *

Xavier came out of his office just after two P.M. and floated over to the kitchen. Finding no one there, he went to the living room, where he found Rogue dozing in her chair. "Rogue?" he asked quietly.

She slowly opened her eyes and stretched luxuriously as she yawned. "How long was I asleep?"

"About four hours would be my guess. Where's Will?"

"He's working in his room."

"That may explain why he didn't make lunch." He went over to the intercom on the wall. "Xavier to Archetype."

There was no response. "Will? Are you there?"

Again, there was no reply. Xavier and Rogue looked at one another. "We should check up on him," Rogue said.

"Do you feel up to it?" he asked.

"I'll sit down if I get too tired," she promised.

"Sit on my chair instead," he advised. "It can carry us both."

She nodded and stood up, folding the blanket neatly and draping it over the back of the chair.

As they ascended in the elevator, Rogue leaned against the wall. "I'm okay," she told Xavier, seeing his concerned look. "I'm just trying not to push myself."

They exited and approached Will's room. Rogue tapped lightly on the door. "Will? Can I come in?"

There was no response. "Will?" Rogue repeated.

Still nothing. "Can you get anything from him?" Rogue asked Xavier.

Xavier extended his awareness for a few seconds, then hastily raised his shields. "It's started," he said sadly.

Rogue's eyes watered for a moment, but she brushed the tears away angrily. "Then I'm going to help him." Before Xavier could say anything, she opened the door and walked into Will's room.

The lights were out, the shades drawn. The clothes which Will had worn that morning were in a pile on the floor. This was a departure from Will's usual habit of hanging them on his chair.

Will was lying in his bed, facing away from her, his head the only thing visible outside the sheets. Rogue walked around to the other side of the bed.

He stared into space, his eyes glazed. His face showed signs of strain, and he was shivering - whether from cold or terror, she couldn't tell. Rogue studied his face for a few seconds, then moved the chair from his desk over to a spot next to the head of the bed. She glanced at Will's dresser, and picked up the pair of gloves that was on top of it, putting them on.

She gently cradled Will's face in her hands. "Will? Please say something. We're really worried about you. Can we do anything to help?"

He continued to shake, but glanced up at her after a few moments. "I don't know," he admitted.

"What are you feeling?" Xavier asked as he approached the bed.

Will continued to tremble for several seconds. "Cold. Trapped. Smothered. Have to go deep. Someplace safe. Place of Power."

Rogue looked up at Xavier. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

Xavier nodded. "He wants to enter a meditative state, so he can survey and repair the psychic damage. Some schools of meditation call that a Place of Power."

"Like the autohypnosis you taught me?" Ever since she had first joined the X-Men, she and Xavier had used various mental techniques in attempts to control her power and its effects.

"Something close to it." He thought for a few moments. "Maybe I can guide him through a meditation."

"Can I do anything to help?"

He considered that. "If you follow my guidance into the meditation, your mental presence may help him slip into a calmer state himself."

She nodded and slipped out of the chair, sitting on the floor and moving into lotus position. "All set," she said as she mentally centered herself.

"Will," Xavier asked, "can you hear me?"

Will nodded shakily.

"I'm going to lead you into a trance. Listen to me carefully, and so what I say."

"I want you to picture yourself in a large room. It's a very comfortable room, and it feels warm and safe. The walls are paneled, and a large bookcase, filled with books, is right in front of you." Xavier knew many variations on this meditation, but felt that Will's perception of the collective consciousness as a library would make this one particularly effective.

"You walk up to the bookcase, and pick out a book - any book you want. You open up the book, and you see that it has red pages. You dive into the book, and you find yourself in another room, with walls that are painted a bright, cheerful red.

"You walk around this room for a while, relaxing a little bit and letting the tension fall from your body. Once you feel comfortable, you walk up to the bookshelf in this room and pick out another book."

Xavier continued the meditation, leading both Will and Rogue through rooms that corresponded with the colors of the rainbow. When they had entered the violet room, Xavier instructed them to open a trap door in the floor, descending a ladder into a warm, dark room, where they sat down.

Xavier gave them both a few minutes to remain in that state. He was unable to read their thoughts due to their powers, but he could sense that they were both calm and centered.

Rogue sat calmly within the sanctuary of her own mind, letting the darkness and the silence wrap themselves around her like a warm blanket. It had been a long time since she had entered a trance this deep, and she enjoyed the peace that it brought.

After a long time, or so it seemed to her, she heard something from quite a distance away. The sound slowly increased in volume, and soon became recognizable as music.

It was a beautiful melody, complex and ever-changing, and it caressed her mind with the touch of a lover, surrounding her and flowing through her. She drank in the music, feeling an ecstasy that was unlike anything in her experience.

As she listened to the song, a small accompaniment to the main theme started to dominate, gaining prominence over the other notes and slowly taking their place around her.

It was a vibrant, energetic melody, but there was a deep, melancholy undertone within it that could not be ignored. It danced around her playfully, drawing near to her and then retreating. Rogue heard majesty and misery together, and determination coupled with despair. Within it all, there was affection and desire, bound together with a deep tenderness.

The music hugged her, tenderly but firmly, and lifted her in its embrace. She floated up the ladder, and was, slowly and gently, carried through the rooms that she had traveled through in her trance. When she reached the red room, she was carefully lowered to the floor. The music danced around her one last time and then merrily scampered away.

Rogue stood in the center of the room for a moment, then visualized a door, which appeared in the middle of the wall to her right. She opened the door and walked through it.

She opened her eyes, finding herself back in Will's room, and turned towards Xavier, who was studying her intently. "How much of that did you see?" she asked him.

"Enough to know that it was none of my business."

"Did we do any good?"

"See for yourself," he replied.

Rogue turned to face Will. His breathing had steadied, and he was now in a deep, untroubled sleep. His face had a smile which reminded her of a Buddha statue.

"I don't know exactly what you did," Xavier admitted, "but it seems to have done the trick."

"Let's just let him sleep," Rogue suggested. "I've got a feeling that the next few days are going to be rough on him." Xavier nodded, and they quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.

"If you _do_ want to talk about it," he offered as they went down the hall, "just knock on my door."

"I think I'm going to take a page out of Will's book and think about on my own for a while. I'm going to head back downstairs and see if I can sort it out."

"That sounds like a good idea," he agreed. "Would you like anything for lunch?"

"I could go for a sandwich. There should still be some cold cuts in the fridge."

"Turkey on rye?"

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

That evening, after having a small meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and soup, Rogue retired to her bed with a book. Her thoughts were not on her reading, however, but rather on the events of that afternoon.

A light knock on her door caught her attention. "Come in."

The door opened, and Will's head leaned into the room.

"Hi," she said warmly.

"Hi," he replied, smiling slightly as he walked in. He moved the chair over to the foot of her bed and sat down.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"I feel great. I thought that we needed to talk, and it's a good idea for us to do it now, while everything's still fresh in our memories."

"Okay." She put down her book and sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning back against the headboard.

"You took a big risk," Will told her bluntly.

"And you didn't when you came back for us?"

"You could have been trapped inside my depression until I came out of it on my own."

"We didn't know that you'd respond the way you did. I was just trying to give you something to grab onto, so you could pull out of your funk."

Will nodded at that. "I'd say that it worked pretty well. I wouldn't say that I feel _great_, but I'm not about to start hiding in a closet either."

"Thank God for that," she said. She was quiet for a moment. "Will... what happened while I was meditating with you?"

"I only know my end of it. I was slipping into trance, and I felt that there was something nearby. I moved closer to it, and the panic started to quiet down. Once I could think clearly, I realized that it was you."

"The music that I heard... was that you?" That question had been nagging at her.

"Partly. You caught a glimpse - _just_ a glimpse - of my perception of the Chorus."

That statement stunned her. "You mean that - that _beauty_ - was the Chorus?"

"A small part of it. The music that became louder and helped bring you out of the trance - well, that was me."

"You?"

His face reddened in embarrassment "Think of it as my way of saying thanks for your help. And..." he faltered.

"And what?" she pressed gently.

"I wanted to give you something," he blurted out. "I thought that after the hell you went through with Apocalypse - because of me - you deserved something that came straight from my heart."

Rogue was touched, but puzzled. "Why didn't you just talk about it with me?"

"I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to put my feelings into words. Besides, I might have chickened out later."

"Do I still intimidate you?"

"Not you," he clarified. "My own emotions."

"Why?"

"I'm usually pretty level headed. I don't really go to any emotional extremes. In the past few days, though, I've been going all over the place from hate to pain to concern to panic. I'm not used to that, and I'm still trying to find some way to deal with it."

"It's not something that you have to do alone. We're all here to help you."

"Not all of you," Will clarified. "There's an important exception."

"Scott."

"Bingo." His eyes became flinty. "Normally, I wouldn't give a damn, but when it affects the team, I have to be concerned."

"We'll take care of Scott. You worry about patching yourself up."

"No problem. I'm planning on taking your place in that chair downstairs. Staring into a fire's helped me meditate in the past, so I'll burn a cord or so of wood."

"The Professor's going to _love_ that."

"I'll give him back twice whatever I use," he shrugged. "I've got enough wood stacked at my safe houses to build a good size log cabin. I need the fire to focus, so I'll do what I have to." He stood up and put the chair back into place. "You should get some rest yourself," he advised her. "You're still not fully recovered."

"I'm going to sleep as soon as I finish this chapter."

"Good." He playfully tweaked her toes where they could be seen poking up under the covers. "Sleep yourself out. I'll start on the cooking again tomorrow."

"You don't have to."

"I think getting back into a routine will help. I'll take a nap later in the day if I get too tired. Do you feel up to going outside tomorrow?"

She smiled. "I'd love to. I'm feeling a little cooped up in here."

"I'll see what I can do. Sleep well, gorgeous."

"Thanks, sexy," Rogue replied impishly.

_"Sexy?"_

"You've got a cute butt."

"Wonderful," he said dryly. "That should strike fear in the hearts of my enemies. Maybe I should cut a hole in the back of my coat and put clear plastic inserts in the derriere of my pants."

"I guarantee that you'll make the Van Dyne list."

"The what?"

"I'll tell you about it in the morning."

"Whatever you say."

* * *

At nine o'clock the next morning, Will stumbled into the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the jamb.

"Morning," Rogue told him cheerfully.

"Glmpf," he replied.

"Still a little tired?" Xavier asked.

"Blxl."

"Cocoa?"

"Nmf," Will grunted as he shook his head.

"Paper?"

He nodded, taking the paper from Xavier and glancing at the front page. He blinked several times, trying to focus his eyes. After a moment, he gave up and waved one hand absently. His glasses appeared in the hand, and he put them on.

"Do you feel all right?" Xavier inquired after a few minutes, when it seemed Will was, if not alert, at least in the general vicinity.

Will yawned. "I'm fine." He turned his gaze to the stove. "Any objections to cherry crepes for breakfast?"

"None here," Rogue offered.

He nodded and dug the crepe maker out of the kitchen cabinets. Rogue and Xavier watched, amused, as he gathered all the ingredients together without opening his eyes. Will poured a generous serving of heavy cream into the mixer and set it on maximum. A few minutes later, he had mixed and poured out several crepes. One can of cherry preserves later, breakfast was on the table.

"What do you have planned for today?" Xavier asked Will once they were all seated.

"Well, I want to do a light exercise routine after we're done here. I have plans for lunch, and I'll review the files this afternoon. We've let a few things back up, and I'd rather not have to explain why when everybody gets back."

"I can help with that," Rogue offered.

"Okay. You can warn me if the electronics start to become affected. I might be too preoccupied to notice."

"I'll be in my office again," Xavier interjected.

"You're growing roots in there," Rogue told him.

"I'm finally making a dent in the paperwork. I'd rather not quit while I'm on a roll."

Will nodded. "I feel the same way when I'm writing. I can go two or three days at a stretch when I'm inspired."

"Do you sleep?" Rogue asked.

"I might take catnaps, but that's about it." He looked at Xavier. "Do you want me to make you a lunch?"

"I think I can manage. Work at your own schedule."

"In that case," Will said as he stood up, "there's a set of weights downstairs with my name on them."

"I'll spot for you," Rogue told him as she polished off the last of her breakfast. "We'll clean up before lunch, Professor."

"Don't worry about it. I'll probably eat in my office, anyway. Just run everything through the dishwasher after dinner."

A few minutes later, both Will and Rogue had changed into sweat suits, and were preparing the Danger Room for an exercise session. "Do you want Nautilus or free weights?" Rogue asked Will.

"Better make it both."

Rogue nodded and entered the program. A moment later, the various pieces of equipment were in place. They descended in the elevator, and Will took his place on the bench. Rogue stood just above him, placing her hands above the weight bar. "All set?" she asked.

Will nodded. "Let's start with something light, then work our way up."

"Computer," Rogue said, "set weight to fifty kilos. All increases to be in five kilo increments."

_"Confirmed,"_ the computer replied.

"Remind me to change the voice on that thing one of these days," Will asked Rogue.

"Why?"

"I get enough of Xavier's voice on a daily basis. I'd rather not have him nagging me while I exercise."

**_I heard that_**, Xavier's voice echoed in their heads.

"Eavesdropper!" Will said loudly. A mild psychic grumble could be heard in reply.

"You enjoy getting under his skin, don't you?" Rogue asked.

"It keeps him young." He tightened his grip on the bar. "Ready."

For the next twenty minutes, Will built up a good sweat, moving through a full range of upper body exercises. While he was in the middle of his second set of abdominal crunches, however, he gasped and gingerly lowered himself until he was flat on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Rogue asked.

"Give me a second," he told her in a strained voice. After a few moments, he rolled onto his stomach and slowly stood up, grimacing as he did so.

"What happened?"

"Back," he said tersely. "I'm going to hit the showers and see if some heat will loosen it up." He slowly walked over to the door.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Will left the showers and went to the library, where he picked up a few magazines to read, then moved on to the kitchen. He pulled out the chicken stock which he had made the week before, and put some on the stove to heat up. He added some diced carrots and celery, then cut up a chicken breast and put it in the pot. Twenty minutes and a few pinches of herbs later, the soup was ready. Will poured it into a thermos, then made a large sandwich to go along with it. After placing everything on a tray, he added a large glass of apple cider. He balanced the tray on one hand and walked over to Xavier's office.

"Come in, Will," Xavier said just before Will knocked.

"Since you had a fifty-fifty chance of being right," Will said as he entered, "I'm going to guess that me shields are back up to par."

"Good guess. Actually, I heard the dishes clinking, and the timing is about right for lunch."

"Sure, take the mystery out of it. You could have kept me paranoid for weeks, but you blew your chance."

"Do you always think in terms of psychological manipulation?"

"Only when I'm on duty," he shrugged. He placed the tray on the small table which was next to Xavier's desk.

"But you're not on duty right now," Xavier pointed out.

"I will be after lunch. I'm just trying to get in the right frame of mind."

Xavier looked dubious about Will's last statement, but decided to let it pass. "What's the sandwich?"

"Turkey, mayonnaise, cranberry sauce, and cornbread stuffing."

"Isn't that a little heavy for lunch?"

"You haven't been eating well lately. This should take care of that."

"Yes, mother," Xavier sighed.

Will's eyes narrowed. "Just for that, no dessert for you tonight."


	30. Chapter 30

"You busy?" Will asked Rogue.

"Not really," she replied as she closed her book. "I thought you said you had plans for lunch."

"I do," he informed her as he came out from around the corner. He held a picnic basket in one hand. "I was planning on having lunch with you."

Rogue smiled. "Let me get my shoes."

A few minutes later, they were both walking towards the lake. They decided on a good spot at the edge and sat down. Rogue waited while Will pulled a tablecloth out of the basket and spread it out, then placed several covered dishes on top of it.

"What's on the menu?" Rogue inquired.

"Fried chicken strips, foccacia, cranberry-walnut relish, apple cider, and Italian rice pudding."

She smiled. "Sounds like an upscale Boston Market menu."

"I won't say anything if you won't." He poured the cider into two mugs, handing one to her.

"You'd better put it down," she advised him. "I'm not wearing any gloves."

He nodded, placing the mug on the tablecloth. She took a little bit of everything available and leaned back against a convenient rock. "I'm tempted to go swimming," she said, eyeing the lake with a speculative look.

"I think it might be a bit chilly. Why not just use the pool in the mansion?"

"The fluorescent lights give me a headache."

"You too? I didn't want to say anything - I thought it was just me. To be honest, I'd kill for an hour or so in a Japanese bath."

"Would you?" she asked teasingly.

"Okay," he amended, "maybe I'd just maim slightly."

"I've got an idea."

"What's that?"

"I think I'll save it until later. I owe you a _few_ surprises."

"Ooh. Another entry for my diary."

She had to laugh at that. A moment later, however, she sobered. "Will?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm getting better. I think I'll be back to normal by the time everybody gets back."

"That's not what I meant. You haven't talked about what happened between the time that you vanished after Apocalypse's attack and when you came back for us."

"It wasn't something that I can put into words very easily. I had to go deep - _very_ deep - to find the strength to recover. I don't talk about it because it all took place at a level that's so... elemental... that I don't think language can convey the reality of the experience."

Rogue nodded at that. "I think I understand. I can describe how my power works until I'm blue, but I don't think anyone has ever really known just what it feels like when I absorb someone."

"That's one of the reasons that I've never asked. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Let's get back to you, okay? Why did you have that panic attack?"

"I had to take some pretty drastic measures to get back into shape quickly. I did something which I guess would be the equivalent of taking a psychic amphetamine."

"Run that by me again?"

"I forced my powers to operate in ways that they really weren't meant to. I geared them towards offensive power and physical impact. They're usually acting on a more subtle level."

"It hurt, didn't it?"

"Like breathing acid."

Rogue winced at that image. "So your attack was a kind of withdrawal."

He nodded in reply.

"Are you still in pain?"

"It's more like a dull ache. Mostly in my joints and bones." He polished off the last of his food and put the plate down. Leaning back until he was flat on the ground, he sighed softly and closed his eyes. "This is too nice a day to go underground."

"I'm tempted to play hooky myself," she confessed, "but you're right - we have a lot of work to catch up on."

"So we bury ourselves in files for a few hours, break for dinner, then play it by ear tonight?"

"Let's see how far along we get. We'll work late if it all gets to be too much, but if we make a good size dent in everything, we'll call it a night."

"Sounds good," he said, grunting slightly as he got up. They dumped everything into the basket and headed back.

* * *

Three hours later, Will yawned and rubbed his eyes. "I think that's it for the text files," he told Rogue.

"Already?" she said incredulously.

"I'm a speed reader," he informed her.

"You must be. It takes most of us half the night to get through all that. Find anything interesting?"

"Maybe. Some of the rival factions in Genosha are talking about a cease-fire. It looks like they've run out of bullets, and the casualty rate has reached the point where they're spread too thin to threaten one another. The conflict's essentially running out of steam."

"The Professor will want to know about that. Maybe we can contact Peter Moreau and Jenny Ransome, and they'll be able to take advantage of it."

Will jotted down a note to himself to remind Xavier, then glanced at Rogue. He did a double take, spinning in his chair to face her. Her posture had become stiff, her hands had balled into fists, and her eyes, staring into the distance, had a haunted look.

"Rogue?" he asked anxiously, getting out of his chair and kneeling beside her to look her in the face. "Rogue, what's wrong?"

Rogue blinked and composed herself. "Sorry," she said apologetically as she looked away, "my mind just drifted for a second."

"Drifted to some place that you didn't like going to, from the look of it. What were you thinking about?"

"The first time I was in Genosha."

"What happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it right now, okay?"

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. What's left to do?"

"Just the foreign news."

"Let's split that up. We can be done in an hour."

In fact, it took less than that, as Will's speed reading allowed him to review the tapes in half the time that Rogue took, giving him the opportunity to pick up some of her load. "Anything else worth worrying about?" Rogue asked him when they were done.

"Not really. Looks like it's a slow day."

"I'm not going to complain about that. It's not like we're in any shape to do anything right now, anyway."

"Good point. Ready to call it a night?"

"We've done our duty for the day. Let's go."

They went back up to the main floor and knocked at Xavier's office door. "Is pizza okay for dinner?" Will asked Xavier once he had been invited to enter.

"I have no problem with that," Xavier replied. He picked up the phone. "What do you want on it?"

"No, no, no," Will said, waving one hand in dismissal. "I'll be making it."

"Oh." He put the phone down. "In that case, I'd like pepperoni and green pepper."

"And I'll have pepperoni and sausage," Rogue told Will.

"Leaving sausage and mushroom for me," Will finished. "Everything should be ready in an hour."

"All right," Xavier agreed. "That should give me time to finish what I was doing."

Rogue joined Will in the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea while she watched him prepare the pizzas. He mixed the dough within a few minutes, and gave Rogue some entertainment by twirling the crusts with one hand, while using the other to chop the vegetables with a Chinese cleaver. About twenty minutes later, Xavier joined them for dinner.

"Very good," Xavier told Will after he had taken a bite. Glancing at the wooden serving plates which the pizzas lay on, he gave Will a questioning look.

"They're mine," Will informed him. "I used baking bricks in the oven, so I needed something to put the pizzas on."

Xavier nodded and kept his mouth shut... and full.

* * *

After Rogue did the dishes - over Will's objections - she joined him in the living room, where he sat reading a magazine. "All done," she told him.

"Great," he said, putting down the magazine. "So, what's the plan?"

"Feel like renting some movies again?"

"It's not a bad idea, but should we leave Xavier here on his own?"

"I think he can handle himself for an hour or so."

"Do you feel up to driving?"

"I'll be okay. Let's go."

An hour later, they returned to the mansion with _The Field, Mindwalk_, and _The Wicker Man_, a movie which Will suggested as one of the few accurate portrayals of Pagan belief in film.

_Mindwalk_, Rogue thought, was a fascinating film, but it left her head spinning, as it covered everything from economics to quantum mechanics. "That was one _deep_ movie," she told Will.

"Did you like it?"

"What I could understand of it."

"It's not exactly something that's going to be a hit with the Steven Seagal crowd," he admitted.

Rogue sat up straight and stretched, yawning. "What time is it?"

"About ten. You ready for bed?"

She smiled. "I've got a better idea." Kicking off her shoes, she grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and covered herself from the neck down, then stretched out on the couch, placing her head in Will's lap. "Can you get the light?" she murmured.

Will was so startled that he obeyed instantly.

* * *

Sometime during the night, Rogue felt a gloved hand reach out, gently caress her cheek, then withdraw. A few minutes later, an arm wrapped itself around her, embracing her comfortingly.

Rogue tensed for a heartbeat, then, realizing that she wasn't in skin-to-skin contact with the person, relaxed. Inhaling deeply, she recognized Will's scent, and felt a warmth spread from her center to throughout her body. She accepted the comfort which he offered, and as she drifted off to sleep again, Rogue surrendered to dreams which she had not allowed herself to consider for nearly ten years.

_The evening breeze drifted over the river, bringing a coolness which was a welcome relief from the summer heat._

_Sitting on the porch swing of her family's mansion, her fan lying unused in her lap, she watched the steamboats paddle slowly along the course to Vicksburg._

_The message had arrived by courier a week ago. His unit had finished their tour, and he had resigned his commission. He wanted to come home, back to the farm. Back to her._

_She had spent the time since then cleaning the house, and the maids had, under her direction, cooked a meal large enough to feed the county. She now wore the dress in which he had first seen her, a green satin ballroom gown which her mother had made for her._

_The full moon hung high in the night sky, casting silvery light and long shadows over the road. The crickets and bullfrogs courted on the bank of the river, and the otters played with their food and with each other._

_The distant sound of hoofbeats shook her from her reverie. She looked out onto the road, and saw a long shadow moving towards the house._

_He was dusty and tired, but he sat proudly in the saddle. His uniform was crisp and his buttons and buckles gleamed. The burns and powder marks on his coat, however, told the story of his struggles during his long absence. _

_She stood up, but found herself unable to move towards him. She watched as he lowered himself from the saddle, displaying the stiffness which came from a long, hard journey._

_He removed his hat, holding it to his chest as he ascended the stairs. His eyes drank in her face, and he slowly lifted one hand towards her, but didn't touch her._

_"Ma'am," he said quietly, "I've returned."_

_Her voice, when she responded, was choked with emotion. "Welcome home, sir," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Welcome home."_

_She melted into his embrace, leaning into him and sighing deeply. "Promise me that you won't ever leave again," she breathed._

_"With all my heart and soul."_

_"Even after what I've done?"_

_"What you've done is what you needed to do to survive. But the war will soon be over, and we can start looking beyond survival. Soon you - all of us - can start to grow again, and overcome our old limitations."_

_"Do we have a chance to be happy?"_

_"If we don't give up. We may have trouble keeping faith in ourselves, but we have to keep our faith in each other, and trust that it's all going to turn out well - that the pain, the tears, and the loneliness have been part of something that makes us both, together, something greater than we were before we found one another."_

_"I do believe that," she whispered._

_"Then hold me, love me, and don't be afraid."_

_She looked into his eyes, bringing her lips closer to his..._

* * *

Rogue awoke with a start, her eyes flying open.

Will had, surprisingly, fallen asleep, and her left hand was intertwined with his right. A glance at the clock told her that it was about three in the morning.

"I have _got_ to lay off the Harlequin Romances," she muttered to herself as she nodded off again.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again, the room was filled with sunlight. She turned her head to look at Will. He was awake, and looking at her with amused eyes. "Good morning," he told her.

"Morning," she replied with a sleepy smile.

"Do you still respect me?" he teased.

"I never did," she told him in a playful voice, as she sat up and stretched. "I cannot _believe_ that I slept like that all night."

"Well, it's eight A.M., so I guess you did." He stood up and twisted his head from side to side. "My neck is going to be killing me for the rest of the day."

"Sorry about that."

"That's okay. It was worth it." He held out a hand to help her up. "I'll have to start breakfast soon, so I think I'd better hit the shower. See you in a few minutes."

"Where's the Professor?"

"I heard his chair at about two last night, so I let him know I was awake. I convinced him to sleep himself out, so I figure he'll be out cold until ten or so. I'll just make him a big lunch."

She nodded. "You can take your time with the shower. For once, we don't have to worry about using up the hot water, so I'm going to take a nice, long bath."

"What about your bandages?"

"Damn, I'd forgotten about them," she muttered.

"We'll check with Moria and see if you can do without them yet."

"Good idea." They took the elevator down to the medical lab, where Rogue called up a channel to Muir Isle.

_"Hello, Rogue,"_ Kurt said as the screen filled with his image.

"Hi, Kurt." Rogue answered warmly. "Is Moria around?"

_"She's in her lab. I'll patch you through."_

A few seconds later, Kurt's face was replaced by Moria's. _"Hello, Rogue, Will. Any problems?"_

"No problems, Moria. My ribs feel fine now, and I wanted to see if I could lose the bandages."

Moria's image frowned. _"Will, if I tell you how, do you think you could work the medical scanner?"_

"I think so," Will replied. "My powers are mild enough to not be a problem."

_"Good."_ Under Moria's guidance, Will set up the scanner and programmed it to send a copy of its results to Muir. Rogue removed her shirt and lay on the medical table. Will ran the scanner through its cycle, and Moria examined the readout a few seconds later. _"It looks like they've knitted enough for the risk to be minimal,"_ she decided. _"The bandages can come off... but you have to take it easy, Rogue. No exercise for at least another few days. Will, if she even **looks** like she's pushing herself, call me immediately."_

"No problem," Will replied. "I'll put Percodan in her food if I have to."

Moria grinned. _"That's the attitude I like to hear from a nurse. Muir Isle out."_

"Okay," Rogue told Will as she sat up, "get these damn things off me."

"You'll need your collar," he reminded her.

"Second shelf, third cabinet on the top," she informed him. "It's the one Hank keeps for medical emergencies."

"I wouldn't call this an emergency," Will protested.

"No, but there may be one in a few minutes."

"How's that?"

"If I can't scratch some of these itches soon, you're going to need a doctor."

"Gotcha," he said, nodding in understanding. He took the collar out and gave it to her. She latched it around her neck and turned her back to him. Will pulled a pair of surgical scissors from a drawer and cut through the bandages. "Don't pull them off all the way yet," he told Rogue.

"Why?"

"I want to see if I can get some of the adhesive off your back first." He went over to the counter again, pulling out some rubbing alcohol and gauze. He poured a small amount of alcohol on the gauze, and lightly scrubbed Rogue's back, removing the adhesive and dirt that inevitably builds up at the edge of a bandage. "Finished," he told her after a few minutes.

Rogue peeled off the remainder of the bandages and breathed deeply, relishing the freedom of movement. "Oh, that feels _great_," she sighed, stretching her arms straight up and arching her back.

"Any soreness?" Will asked.

She gently pressed against her ribs with her fingers. "Doesn't seem to be."

"Good. Could you put your shirt on, please?"

Rogue turned her head, and was surprised to find that Will was facing away from her. "What's with you?" she asked.

"You're not my patient anymore," he shrugged.

"You saw my chest when you put them on."

"Actually, no I didn't. I saw things in the infrared spectrum then."

"Why, Mister Riley," she teased, "are you embarrassed about seeing me without my clothes?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," he replied testily. "Now can we please drop the subject?"

Rogue smiled and put her shirt back on. "It's safe now," she told him.

Will turned around and put the bandages and gauze in the trash, then placed the scissors in the autoclave. Rogue handed him the collar, and he put it on its shelf. "Anything else we need to do?" he asked.

"Not that I can think of."

"I'm hitting the showers, then."

"Wait for me."

They entered the elevator and started back up. "I'm sorry about teasing you," Rogue told Will, "but you were just too tempting a target. I swear, you're more nervous about my showing skin than I am."

"That's probably true," Will admitted. "It doesn't help that I was..." He bit off the end of the sentence.

"You were what?"

"Never mind. It's not important."

"Come on, Will," she told him firmly. "Spit it out."

His reply was so mumbled it was unintelligible. "One more time?" she asked.

"I had a dream about you last night," he muttered.

"Why, Will, that's the sweetest thing you've said to me," she told him. Then she smiled wickedly. "Did it merit a PG, R, or X rating?"

Will look at her with a shocked expression, then composed himself. "I'd definitely rate it PG," he said stiffly.

"For shame. You're going to have to do better than that."

Will blushed bright red, and Rogue laughed as the doors opened and he rushed to his room.

* * *

Some time later, Rogue melted against the back of her shower with a dreamy smile on her face, offering yet another mental thank you to whoever had invented the flexible shower massage.

_Now that **that** particular tension is gone_, she thought to herself, _I can worry about the rest of my body._ She closed the drain, then switched the water flow from the shower head to the faucet. Sitting down in the tub, she took a washcloth and scrubbed at her chest, removing the last of the adhesive. She then poured in some bubble bath and relaxed, closing her eyes as the water and bubbles surrounded her.

Once she had decided that she probably looked like a prune, she opened the drain and stepped out of the tub. She toweled herself off, feeling a sensuousness in the act that she hadn't experienced in a while. Slipping into a robe, she brushed her hair and put on a minimal amount of makeup. She decided on a turtleneck and jeans for the day, but paused as she searched through her underwear drawer. She decided to take advantage of the freedom that the removal of the bandages gave her, and chose only a pair of panties for the day. And if she could put Will off balance again by doing so, she thought with a grin, so much the better.

Will was reading the paper when she met him in the kitchen. "Can I have the comics?" she asked him.

"Here you go," he said, handing them to her.

"You don't have to wear the gloves today. I'm wearing mine."

"I want to get into the habit. If we both wear them, then we shouldn't have any problems."

She nodded, sitting down. "What's for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry, so it's your decision."

"French toast?"

"Coming right up." He stood up and got started. She noticed that he avoided looking at her.

"Are you still edgy about that dream?" she asked.

"Sort of," he hedged.

"Would it help if you talked about it?"

He turned around and leaned against the counter, thinking. "It wasn't like my usual dreams - the type where I'm in tune with the Chorus, I mean. I really wasn't in control of this one, like I usually am. It was more like I was playing some kind of role."

"I was tired, like I'd been up for days. I remember being in some kind of uniform. It wasn't my team uniform, but it was still grey. I was wearing a sword, but it wasn't my sword." He frowned in concentration for a moment. "I think it was a sabre."

Rogue felt a chill for a moment. "Like a Confederate uniform?"

He nodded, not noticing her reaction. "That might be it. That would explain how you were dressed. You were wearing what looked like a ballroom gown. And you were in front of a house that looked like something out of a Ted Turner movie."

"It was a moonlit night," Rogue informed him. "You rode up to the house, dismounted, walked up to me, and said "Ma'am, I have returned."

"And then you said "Welcome home, sir. Welcome home." He looked at her. "Are you saying that..."

"...We both had the exact same dream," she finished. "I woke up just before you kissed me. What happened after that?"

"Well, the kiss went on for a long time. Then you bought me inside the house, got me out of the uniform and..."

"And?"

"Made me take a bath. After that, I stuffed my face at a huge meal, and went to bed exhausted."

Rogue found that she was faintly disappointed. "That's it?"

"What were you expecting? Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara? He raped her on their wedding night, for God's sake. I've never seen how people can call that scene romantic."

Rogue conceded to him on that point. "I'm still spooked, though. How could we have the same dream?"

"Maybe it was because we were in such close proximity," he mused.

"Has it ever happened before?"

"I've never slept with someone before." He frowned. "Maybe I should rephrase that."

Rogue waved that aside. "I know what you meant." She then looked at him in surprise. "You mean you're..."

He shrugged. "I was never close enough with anyone to have the opportunity. And it's not exactly something that you advertise."

She decided to drop that line of conversation. "Could the fact that you're still recovering have had something to do with it?"

"I don't think so. My shields are back up to full strength." He came over to the table and sat down. "There's another possibility."

"What's that?"

"I've been making an effort to let you in - to drop my old defenses. Maybe I succeeded too well. It's possible that my defenses have decided to make an exception in your case, and you got sucked into my dream - or vice versa."

"Could both possibilities be true? I was able to get close to you because we were close to one another physically, and then your defenses let me in because I was familiar to them, so they didn't see me as a threat?"

"That makes sense," he said, after considering it for a few seconds. "Think we should tell Xavier about it?"

"I don't think it did either one of us any harm, so I can't see how it's any of his business."

"I can agree with that." He stood back up. "We can talk about it later. Let me finish making breakfast first."

She nodded, and read the paper while he prepared her meal. "Are you up for a shopping trip?" she asked after leafing through the _Times_.

"Is there a big sale somewhere?"

"Not really. I just feel like getting out for the day. And now that I've got a clean bill of health..."

"Moria warned you to take it easy," Will reminded her.

"I'm planning on walking around, not juggling pickup trucks."

He nodded, chuckling. "Point taken. We'll clue Xavier in once he wakes up."

"He is up," they heard from the hallway. Xavier floated in, dressed in a blue turtleneck. "I have no problem with your leaving the grounds, as long as you can be reached."

"You still have my cellular number, don't you?" Will asked.

Xavier nodded. "You'll have it on you?"

"I'll keep it in my jacket pocket. By the way, that reminds me... has Forge come up with anything to counter my disruption field yet?"

"He's got a few ideas on the table. Why?"

"I'm hoping that he can make some adjustments to a personal data assistant. Between my business contacts and the information that you've been feeding me since I got here, I'm starting to get a bit overwhelmed. I need some way to keep track of things, because I'm starting to get worried that I might let something about the X-Men slip during a business meeting, and put the team at risk."

"I think that a laptop computer would be a better choice," Xavier suggested. "It would allow two-way communication."

"Are your data channels totally secure?"

"No channel is totally secure," Xavier admitted, "but we _do_ try to stay three steps ahead of the opposition. We use a special kind of chip in all of our communication gear that was developed by Reed Richards. They're all set to an atomic clock, and they change frequencies according to a mathematical equation which is so complex that it simulates randomness. There are a few hundred thousand permutations, so the probability of someone getting lucky is almost nil."

"You get these chips directly from Richards? There's no middleman?"

"Bishop took the last batch directly from Richards' hands last month."

"And I'm safe in guessing that your laptops are something that you won't find in an Officemax."

"They have a capacity of 200 terabytes."

Will whistled. "I think you may have finally developed a computer that won't slow down under Windows."

* * *

Rogue and Will decided that since they would be purchasing things in the city, driving there made more sense than utilizing teleportation or flight. Rogue realized, however, that the only vehicle available was the school's old van, which hadn't been used since the poker game. "I'm not looking forward to parking," she told Will.

"We'll make do," Will replied. "I think I can afford to pay for a parking garage."

They ran into a bit of traffic on the way to New York, but nothing very severe, so they arrived at a reasonable hour. "Mind if we hit the Met before lunch?" Will asked. "The afternoon crowd tends to be pretty tight. All we'll run into at this hour is kids on school field trips."

"Okay," Rogue agreed. "How's the museum restaurant?"

"I don't know, I've never eaten there. They should have the menu posted."

They left the van at a Fifth Avenue parking garage and walked to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. True to Will's prediction, the lobby was filled primarily with schoolchildren and teachers. Will paid for two passes, and they went to the Egyptian wing. "We may as well start from the beginning," Rogue explained to Will.

"Just steer clear of the modern stuff, please."

"No problem."

They killed about two hours at the Met, then had a light lunch of gyros and baklava. They spent the afternoon shopping at various stores. Rogue bought herself several new outfits, while Will spent time in a bookstore, followed by a stationary store, where he purchased a fountain pen.

"I didn't know you wrote with those," Rogue told him.

"I got one as a gift when I was a kid. I liked writing with it so much that now I use them for everything except carbon paper and automatic forms."

"I've never used one," she confessed. "I got most of my education with Mystique and Destiny while we were on the run, and almost everything that I've learned with the Professor has been by computer because of the weird schedules we all keep."

Will gestured towards the cabinet which displayed the pens. "Pick out one that you like," he told her.

Rogue shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't..."

Will laughed. "Pick one of the cheap ones, then. The insides of the things are pretty much the same. What you're paying for is exterior finishes." He walked over to one of the salespeople. "Excuse me, Ma'am? What would you recommend to my friend as a first fountain pen?"

The saleswoman, a matronly woman of middle years, engaged Rogue in a conversation about her writing habits and style. After a few minutes, they were able to decide on a simple, black matte pen with gold accents. Rogue took Will's advice regarding the advantages of bottled ink over cartridges, and bought both black and green ink. Will assured the saleswoman that he had enough experience with fountain pens to be able to show Rogue how to fill, clean, and maintain her new purchase.

"Just remember," Will told her as they left the store, "don't carry that on the Blackbird. The loss of air pressure would make the ink leak out. I don't think that indelible stains on your jacket will improve your image."

"That's one of the reasons you want a laptop, isn't it?"

"That's right. I figure that I can get some more work done that way. I'm hoping that I can deal with some of the load that my business dealings are taking up, and maybe give Xavier a hand with the Underground if he needs it."

Rogue was surprised at that. "I'm not sure if he'd be willing to risk the possibility of a security breach."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a way of expanding the Underground into my business interests. I've got my fingers into enough pies to make an impact if we want to stage an economic coup."

"That sounds like Hellfire Club thinking."

"A good idea is a good idea, no matter who it comes from. I'm not talking about world domination, just a gesture that would raise awareness about how much economic clout the mutant lobby has at its disposal."

"That _would_ send a message," she mused. "The trick would be to make sure that the press got the news ahead of time."

"Just run it through the Fantastic Four or the Avengers. They have a street level credibility that we don't."

"That's true. And I think you could get some support from Janet Van Dyne, Reed Richards - and Iron Man might be able to influence Tony Stark. Combine that with your money and the Professor's, and you'd be able to blow Wall Street away."

"It's a last resort, even if we could get everyone involved to go along with it. I'd prefer to work along with the super-rich heroes, making ourselves so indispensable to the economy that governments would be afraid to shut us down. They'd have to make some sort of peace with us just to stay solvent."

Rogue thought about that for a moment. "Could you acquire a monopoly on something essential?"

"It's too risky. If the technology changes, we're left out in the cold. We're better off getting a cut from a lot of different sources, so that we can stay flexible as the market changes."

"I think I'm going to review the economics notes I took way back when. Things should be getting very interesting soon."

"As the man said, 'I don't want to rule the world. I just want to own it.' _I_, however, have a new twist."

"What's that?"

"I want to charge everybody a user fee."

* * *

The ride back to Salem center was uneventful, and they picked up some Chinese food for Xavier. Will had leaned more towards Vietnamese food, but Rogue felt that they should play it safe. "He may have traveled all over the world, but he doesn't eat everything in it."

"If you say so," Will decided. "This isn't exactly going to break my bank." He pulled out his cellular and dialed the mansion. "Hello, Xavier, it's Riley. We're on our way back - I'd say twenty minutes or so. We bought you some dinner, so you won't have to heat anything up. No, we already ate. Is there anything else you need? Okay, then, see you in a while. Riley out." He turned off the phone. "No surprises back home. He says it's been quiet."

"Good. He needed a day alone."

"We've been staying out of his way."

"Yeah, but sometimes you need to be _completely_ alone to be alone. You can't relax all the way if you know that someone can walk in at any time."

"That's a good point. I've been enjoying being part of the X-family, so I've kind of been toning down my anti-social tendencies."

"Anti-social?"

"In the literal sense, not the psychological one. I'm not about to go pathological on anybody. I just mean my tendency to become a hermit every once in a while."

"I haven't seen you do that since you joined."

He looked at her affectionately. "You've been giving me a reason to go out and face the world."

"That's sweet. It would make a horrible opening line, but it's still sweet."

"I think we've gone beyond the opening line stage, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think we have. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Never mind."

Will was silent for a moment. "Come on, Rogue," he said quietly, "out with it."

"Will, If I ask you a question, do you promise to give me a straight answer, and that you won't be offended?"

"Rogue, you can surprise me, delight me, and I admit that sometimes you can confuse me, but you _cannot_ offend me. What's your question?"

"Why do you stay with me?" she blurted out. "You know there can't be anything physical between us, so why do you even pretend?"

Will looked at her for a moment, shocked. Then his face hardened. "Pull over," he ordered her sternly.

Rogue sighed and slowed down the car, stopping on the shoulder of the road.

"Look at me," he told her. She did so.

"I think I have to correct myself. You can't offend me - but you can, and just did, insult me."

"How did..."

"Do you really think so little of me?" he interrupted. "Do you really think that I place so little value on you, your feelings, and our relationship that I'd just toss you aside and go for the next bimbo who bats her lashes at me? That I have so little self-awareness that I can't deal with the physical desire that I have for you? If that's the case, Rogue, then you don't know me at all." He unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the van, slamming the door angrily. He then started walking down the road, muttering to himself.

Rogue stared at him for a moment, utterly speechless. She had not expected such a strong reaction to her question, which was more a reflection of her doubts regarding her desirability than any lack of faith in Will's commitment.

She decided that it would be best to resolve the issue quickly, before Will decided to fight the entire East Coast single-handedly. She put the car back into gear and followed him. Pulling alongside as he walked along the shoulder of the road, she rolled down the passenger side window. "Will?" she called. "Will, please get back in here. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just... I'm just scared."

That stopped him in his tracks. "About what?" he asked skeptically.

"Can we talk about it in here?"

Will sighed, slumped his shoulders, and got back in the van. He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, then opened his left one, pinning her in a steady gaze.

"I'm scared about my feelings too," Rogue confessed, "and I'm afraid that if they become too strong, I might not be able to control myself - that I might try to... express them in some way that could be dangerous to you. And... I'm scared that my dreams mean that I'm setting myself up for a fall. I've had enough chances to have a normal life that were taken away. I don't think I can put myself through it again."

Will took her hand in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It doesn't help that I've been keyed up all day." She winced, silently cursing her loose tongue.

"Why's that?" Will asked, not noticing her expression.

Rogue blushed furiously, then decided that honesty certainly couldn't hurt at this point. "After I woke up from that dream we shared, I went right back to sleep, and continued it from where it left off. It got kind of... intense. That... intensity carried over into the next morning, after breakfast." She exhaled in frustration. "Okay, okay. I was horny as hell, and I took care of things while I was in the shower."

Will blushed as well. "Oh. Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I did, too?" Noticing Rogue's startled look, he shrugged. "I'm not ashamed to say it. I told you back when I saw that picture of Apocalypse that you were the most attractive woman I had ever seen. Did you think that I wouldn't have fantasies?"

Rogue couldn't help laughing. "What's so funny?" Will asked.

"We make quite a pair, don't we?"

He squeezed her hand affectionately. "That we do, my dear. That we do."

* * *

They reached the mansion fifteen minutes later. Xavier met them in the foyer. "Did you enjoy yourselves?" he asked them.

"It was an eventful day," Will told him. "We got you Chinese for dinner. How did your work go?"

Xavier smiled blissfully. "I've actually caught up on everything. I'm rewarding myself by going to bed early. Logan called, by the way. He'll be back tomorrow night."

"We'll be hitting the sack soon ourselves," Rogue told him. "We have to clean up around here before everybody starts tramping around again."

"Good idea. At least we have a chance to stay ahead of the damage." He sighed. "I'm getting morbid. Will, if you'd be kind enough to get me a soda, I think I'll just eat in my room."

Will concentrated for a moment, and a can of root beer appeared in his right hand. "Here you go," he said, handing it to Xavier.

"Thanks. Both of you can sleep in if you want. I really don't think that I'll be good for anything before noon tomorrow. See you then." He turned his chair and headed for the elevator.

"I'm still a little hungry," Rogue told Will. "Are you up for a snack?" Will nodded, and they went to the kitchen, where Rogue dished out rather generous portions of tin roof ice cream, topped by hot fudge and pineapple.

Will leaned back in his chair as he finished off his serving. "Well, that ruins my diet," he concluded.

"I think you'll live," Rogue told him as she placed her own bowl in the sink.

"I'm wiped out," he confessed as he added his bowl to the dirty stack. "I think I'm going to follow Xavier's example and get to bed early. It's been a very busy day."

* * *

Will sat up in bed, reading a collection of poems by W.B. Yeats which Henry had donated to the Institute's library. He was tired, but not yet weary enough to go to sleep, and he thought that reading would be a good way to wind down.

He was still disturbed by the events of that afternoon. _I have no idea what to do_, he thought to himself. _If I back off, she'll think I'm going to leave her because of her power. If I get too aggressive, she'll panic and back off completely, then be so skittish that she may never risk intimacy again. If I just stay the course, then she gets more and more frustrated._ He put the book down and removed his glasses, then rearranged his pillows so that he could lie down.

The light went out before his hand reached the switch. "Great," he muttered. "Guess it's back to candles for me."

"You didn't do that," a voice said in the darkness.

Will turned, focusing his vision towards the infrared spectrum. "Hi, Rogue."

"Hi," she said softly, as she walked towards him, stepping into a spot of light which had sneaked through the shutters. She was wrapped in a white bed sheet, covered from her head, which peeked out from a hood formed by one corner of the sheet, to her ankles, leaving only her bare feet exposed.

Will felt his mouth go dry. "Um, if you're an angel," he said in an attempt at levity, "I think there may be a mistake in my paperwork. There's never been any proof that I was involved in that massage oil incident..."

"Shush. Don't talk. Just listen for now, okay?" She paused a moment, waiting for Will to nod in reply.

"We've got feelings for each other. We want to act on them, but we can't. We want to be as close as a normal couple, but we can't. So, tonight, I want to get as close to you as I can." She hesitated, then breathed deeply. "Slide over, and pull the covers up to your neck."

Will's mind was reeling, still going over his inner dialogue of moments before, so his body responded for him. He obeyed, moving to the far side of the bed.

Rogue lay down on the bed, staying on top of the sheets, and turned so that her back was to Will. "If this is the most I can ever have with you," she said in a soft voice, "then I want to have it now, before everybody gets back - when it can be a private moment, one that's just for us."

Will was silent for several seconds. "Are your arms still covered?" he asked in a dry whisper.

"Yeah," she whispered back. "So are my hands."

She felt him move around on the mattress. A moment later, his arm wrapped around her in a gentle embrace, drawing her close to him. She felt his warmth through the fabric as he curled his body into spoon position with hers.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes. This is wonderful," she told him as she relaxed her tense muscles, sinking deeply into the mattress and leaning into him. "Will..."

"Hush. Don't talk. Sleep, and dream."

They slept, and dreamed, together.


	31. Chapter 31

Logan's taxi pulled up to the mansion gate, and he stepped out and lit his cigar. "Thanks for the ride, bub," he told the driver as he handed the fare over. After the taxi had driven off, he pulled out his smart key and opened the gate, closing it behind him and walking towards the mansion at a leisurely pace.

_I gotta admit, I needed that break,_ he thought to himself. _It was nice seein' Tyger and Xi'an, even if it was in the middle of a firefight. Xi'an grew up to be one pretty woman. I gotta remember to send her regards to Sam, Bobby, and Rahne like I promised._

He looked up at the stars. _It's gonna be nice to sleep in a familiar bed again_, he admitted to himself. _Time was, I wouldn't care where I camped down for the night. Must be gettin' old. Oh well, I've still got a few more scraps left in me._

He walked up to the main entrance to the mansion and knocked. _No reason to spook whoever's home. I'm too tired to play the silent shtick tonight, anyway. You'd think that after all the years I've been traveling, I'd be immune to jet lag by now._

The front door opened to reveal Will. Before Logan could utter a word, he said "I'm sorry, but we don't want any copies of _The Watchtower_," and closed the door again.

Logan counted to ten. Slowly. Then he knocked again.

Will opened the door a second time, glanced at Logan, then looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Xavier! There's somebody here from the Veterans' Association asking for a donation!"

"Which war?" Xavier called back.

"If I had to guess, I'd say Crimean."

"Let him in. We could use a charity case for tax purposes."

"All right, but he looks like trouble to me."

"Okay," Logan said firmly, "that's enough with the comedy."

Will grinned. "Sorry, Logan. I'm just in a good mood today." He opened the door all the way and let Logan in.

Logan glanced around the foyer as he entered. "You guys have been busy. The place looks good." The hardwood floor and carpets had been cleaned, and he could smell the ammonia that had been used in the kitchen and ground floor bathroom.

"We thought that it made sense to clean now, while everybody was out."

"No arguments from me."

"You hungry? I left a pot of soup on for you."

"I'm starving. What's the soup?"

"Beef noodle. Want a sandwich to go along with it?"

"I won't complain." He dropped his bag next to the stairs. "I'll move it when I go up."

Will dished out a large bowl of soup for Logan, and added a turkey and Swiss on rye a few minutes later. "You want a brew to go along with that?" he asked as he put the cold cuts back in the refrigerator.

"If there's a cold one."

Will grabbed a can from the refrigerator and tossed it to Logan, then poured himself a glass of cranberry juice and sat down. "Well, did you get a chance to relax?"

"Saw some old friends, got into a few scraps, gave better than I got. Had a blast." He glanced in the direction of Xavier's office. "Chuck working?"

"Actually, he says he caught up on his work yesterday. Believe it or not, he got at least twelve hours of sleep last night."

Logan whistled. "Are you sure he ain't sick?"

"I think it was more like a reward for getting everything done."

"Where's Rogue?"

"She finished cleaning upstairs just before you got here, so she's taking a shower to get the dust out of her hair."

He nodded. "How's she feeling?"

"Today's her second day without the bandages, and she says she's fine. She hasn't done anything really strenuous, though. We thought that Henry should have a look at her first."

"How about you?"

"I feel fine, but I really haven't been using my powers, either. We've both been taking it easy."

"Any emergencies?"

Will shook his head. "It's been quiet. We've all been getting our rest. I don't think any of us will be getting back to routine until at least a few more people get back. "

"Makes sense. It's hard enough to keep Drake's mind on business when things are normal."

"He _does_ have a tendency to drift, doesn't he?"

Rogue walked in, wearing a maroon sweatsuit and sneakers. "Hi, Wolvie!" she said brightly as she toweled her hair. "Enjoy your trip?"

"Yup," he grinned. "You look like you're feeling better."

"I feel great," she informed him. She pulled out a chair and sat down. "My nurse here took good care of me."

"Nurse, huh?" He looked at Will. "Somehow, I have trouble seeing him in a white skirt and flats."

"What I do in my off time is my own business," Will informed him primly as he stood up. "I'm going to get some reading done, then I think I'll crash for the night. Just leave the dishes in the sink, Logan. I'll get them in the morning."

"Oh, sure," Rogue pouted. "Just ignore _me_."

Will smiled at her fondly. "Never." He mussed her hair playfully and left.

"He sure cheered up," Logan remarked.

"We both had a good time," Rogue confessed. "We got a few things out in the open, and got a chance to relax."

Logan pushed his soup bowl away and lit a cigar. "How's he doing? With his powers, I mean?"

"He hasn't been using them openly, at least not that I know of. There was something, though..."

"What?"

"It's something that I think I want to keep private."

"So it wasn't anything bad?"

"That's right. It was something wonderful."

Logan smiled. "You two had something big happen, I can tell. You've both got The Look now." The various X-teams had learned, over the years, to become acquainted with The Look, a goofiness that was apparent in a couple in the early stages of romantic love.

"Do we?" Rogue asked impishly.

"I'd expect some tongues to start wagging when everybody gets back. Oh well, things have been dull on the personal front around here lately, anyway." He picked up his bowl and put it in the sink. "I'm hitting the shower, then it's off to bed for me. See you tomorrow."

"Night," she told him.

After Logan had left, Rogue sat quietly for a few moments. A low snort escaped her lips, which soon expanded into a giggle. Within seconds, she was shaking with glee, rocking from side to side in her chair and hugging herself tightly. She leaped out of the chair and flew up to the ceiling, floating slowly down to the floor and landing on one toe. She pirouetted gracefully, curtseying to a world that was suddenly full of promise.

* * *

Logan got up at sunrise, as usual, and went through his morning katas. Realizing that waking the others up early would not be a wise idea, he decided to make his own breakfast. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was awake to nag him about his culinary habits, he made himself a massive ham steak and several fried eggs, with strong black coffee and Texas toast.

Xavier entered just as he was starting to dig in. "I take it that Will isn't up yet."

"How'd you guess?"

"I can't feel my arteries hardening from the next room when he cooks."

"You want anything?"

"I think I'll wait until everybody's up."

"Suit yourself," Logan said as he downed another mug. "By the way, you can chalk those two up for another case of The Look."

"Really?" Xavier answered with a sly smile. "I've been too busy to notice."

"Accordin' to Rogue, somethin' big happened."

"Any idea what?"

"She didn't say, and I didn't ask. I figure they're both big enough to handle whatever it is."

"They both seem to be happy about it."

"Tell me about it. Did you know, he touched her last night - with gloves on, of course - and she didn't even flinch?"

"Really?" Xavier's eyebrow arched up. "That _is_ interesting, from both of them."

"Why's that?"

"The fact that Rogue's becoming more comfortable with physical contact is encouraging, but the idea that Will actually took the initiative is just as important."

Logan nodded. "Hadn't thought of it that way. He's opening up. Good for him. He talk any about what happened to him?"

"To me, no. To Rogue, probably."

"So long as he talks to _somebody_. That is a man who's under a lot of pressure."

"That's right, you didn't know. Before his powers stabilized, he had a panic attack. Rogue helped me pull him out of it."

"So he _does_ run into problems."

"It was the reason he wanted everybody out of the mansion. He probably would have just left himself, but he was too concerned about Rogue."

"He's okay now?"

"Seems to be."

"Good. They both went through the wringer."

"It was more like wash, rinse, and spin cycles," Will said as he walked in. "Did you get the paper, Logan?"

"Not yet."

"I'll do it." He winked out, returning a few seconds later with the paper in his hand. He tossed it to Logan. "You were up first," he explained.

"Are you hungry?" Xavier asked him.

"Not really. I think I'm just going to get some exercise in."

"Do you want me to supervise a Danger Room session?"

"I think I'll just practice my swordsmanship, and I can do that outside."

"Wait up," Logan told him. "Let me get my practice sword, and I'll join in."

"No problem."

Logan hopped up the stairs two at a time, and heard Rogue's door open as he reached the top. "Mornin'" he called.

"Morning," Rogue replied cheerfully. She came around the corner, dressed in jeans and a yellow tank top, covered by a blue shirt which was tied as a halter top.

"Will and me are doin' a sword practice. Want to watch?"

"Sure." She waited while Logan grabbed his practice sword from the rack, then went downstairs with him. Will was waiting in the kitchen, wearing his coat and holding his sword loosely in his right hand. "Good morning, Rogue," he said with a smile.

"Hi," she replied. "Mind if I watch you two?"

"My dear, you can have the front row seat."

"What's with the coat?" Logan asked him.

"I like to stay as close as possible to combat conditions. If I get used to working without it, then I might not have the same range of movement later."

Logan considered that for a moment, then nodded in approval. "Good idea. Let's get started."

They walked out the back door and took their places on the lawn. "Do you want to do free-style or synchronized?" Will asked.

"Let's do free-style. The only thing the clone method ever taught me is that people who take that route are easy to predict."

"Mixing different styles usually works best," Will agreed. He walked a few paces away from Logan, and they both began.

Rogue observed them as they moved, noticing some significant differences in their styles. Logan fought in a manner that reflected his personality. It concentrated on the attack, and was highly aggressive, designed to overwhelm an enemy and cut it down. Will, in contrast, used a defensive style, which let an opponent get close. Rogue was puzzled by this tactic, until she saw that Will held a long dagger in his left hand, occasionally making a wide sweep with it which would blind or disembowel the target.

"You are a _nasty_ player," Logan told Will after they were both finished.

He shrugged in reply. "Whatever does the job. When I fight, I fight to win. Every second I spend engaged with an enemy is a second I could be helping someone else. So I take them down and take them fast."

"Will you fight to kill?" Rogue asked.

"If I think the situation demands it. Otherwise, I'd try to cripple, aiming for hamstrings and tendons, or cutting someone just above the eyes so that the blood blinds them."

"Taking them down, instead of taking them out," Logan confirmed.

"Right. It's always possible to direct an enemy in a way that'll work to your advantage. That's kind of hard to do if they're dead."

"More manipulation?" Rogue asked.

"I think of it as letting my opponent do my work for me."

* * *

When they came back in, Xavier informed them that both Henry and Bobby had called to say that they would be returning that evening. Will frowned at that information, then went to the kitchen and looked in the cabinets. "We'd better get some shopping done," he informed them.

"Good idea," Xavier agreed. "Are you all up for a trip to the supermarket?"

"I don't mind," Rogue said.

"Me neither," Logan agreed, "but it's gonna be a pain with just three of us."

"We'll take out the back seat of the van," Will shrugged. "That should give us enough room."

After Will and Logan had showered and changed, they were on their way. "Who has the checks?" Will asked.

"I do," Rogue replied. The institute paid for groceries and other staples with a corporate line of credit.

They pulled into the supermarket parking lot a few minutes later. "Where's the list?" Logan asked as they walked in.

"I play it by ear," Will replied, pulling a cart from the racks. "Just trail behind me. Let's start with the salad course." They headed towards the produce section. "You both might want to grab a bag."

Logan and Rogue looked at one another and shrugged. Logan took two plastic bags from the roll, handing one to her.

"Do oranges sound good?" Will asked.

"I think they'll get eaten," Logan decided.

"Good. Catch." Will chose several oranges, then negligently tossed them over his shoulder. Logan scrambled wildly for a few seconds an he caught them in the bag. A few seconds later, Rogue had to do the same for the pears.

"What is this," she asked as she laughed, "A grocery run or a Danger Room session?"

"It's just my way of making shopping an aerobic activity," Will told her as he picked out several heads of lettuce.

Since Will would be doing most of the cooking, there was little argument about what was needed. They were, therefore, able to make their way through the store rather quickly.

"I think we should make something big for the weekend, since everybody should be back by then," Will suggested. "How about roast beef?"

"That's a little heavy," Rogue disagreed. "What about chicken?"

"Roast chicken, rice, stuffing, gravy, and celery?"

"That doesn't sound too bad," she mused. "Let's go with it."

Logan, meanwhile, had made his way through the cookie and snack aisle, tossing his favorite pork rinds and bags of chips into his cart. He looked at the cookies and grabbed Bobby's Oreos and Bishop's Nutter Butters. As he continued through the aisles, he ran into Rogue. "Did you want any cookies?" he asked her.

"No way," she said, shaking her head. "After the way Will pampered me over the last few days, I have to keep an eye on my weight."

"You seen him around here?"

"He's over by the baking aisle, looking at the cake mixes. I think he's planning a big dessert for the weekend."

"So your diet's over before it begins," he said with a chuckle.

"I have enough willpower to keep from eating too much," she protested.

"I seem to remember one night with you and a half gallon of peach ice cream."

"That was a special occasion!" she declared. "Mississippi State had just lost to Kentucky, and I had to take Sam's chores for a month. I think I was justified in being a little upset."

"Whatever you say, darlin'" Logan said as he moved into the soda aisle. "Whatever you say."

They caught up with Will at the meat counter, where he was haggling with the butcher over the price of soup bones. "You almost done?" Logan asked him.

"I just have to get some things for soup," Will replied. "Five pounds each of beef and chicken bones. Should take just a few minutes. True to his word, they lined up at the checkout counter five minutes later.

"This is all on one order," Rogue informed the cashier.

The teenager looked at the three bulging carts and sighed. "Paper or plastic?"

"We'll be bagging it all," Will told her.

She exhaled in relief. "_Thank_ you."

"We do what we can to help." He stuffed one paper bag into another, and started filling it with groceries as they came down the treadmill. Logan made his way around the next aisle and joined him. By working together, they were able to stay ahead of the cashier.

As they left the store, Logan glanced at the receipt. "We got away cheap this time."

"That's what I was thinking," Rogue agreed.

"I got a lot of the meat in larger packs," Will explained. "It's cheaper if we cut it up ourselves."

"Well, you've proved that you can handle a blade well enough," Logan decided. "I guess you can manage a cleaver."

"Your confidence is inspiring," Will said sarcastically as he placed the bags in the van. "What time is it, by the way?"

"Just after twelve," Rogue told him.

"Any objections to McBurgers?"

"Are you paying?"

Will shut the van door, then dug into a pocket and counted his money. "No problem. Just don't order the whole menu."

Logan pulled the van out of the supermarket lot, and they entered the drive-thru of the restaurant. "What do you guys want?"

"I'll have a chicken sandwich and medium fries with a root beer," Rogue said.

"Double cheeseburger, jumbo fries, and a large Coke for me," Will added as he handed Logan the money.

"Right." Three minutes later, they were on their way back to the institute.

"I'll put everything away," Will said when they parked in front of the mansion, "but I could use a hand getting it inside."

I think we can manage that," Logan replied.

They soon had all of the grocery bags in the kitchen. Will started placing the groceries on the table, sorting them into groups to make them easier to put away. In a surprisingly short time, he had everything in its proper place, and was taking a cleaver to the meat, cutting it into manageable portions and placing the foil-wrapped packages in the freezer.

"That didn't take long," Rogue said as she walked in.

"It helps that no one's complained about my rearranging things in here."

"We figured that since you do most of the cooking, you had the right to arrange the kitchen the way that worked best for you." She looked at his chef's coat, which had some of the blood from the meat on it. "You look like Sweeny Todd."

"That makes sense. We're having cat pies for dinner."

Rogue blanched. "_Please_ tell me you're kidding."

He grinned. "I am. We really are having chicken pot pie, though."

"Is that what's in the oven?"

"No, that's the beef bones I bought. I have to roast them before I can use them in stock."

"How long will that take?"

"About another hour and a half. Then I'll simmer them overnight with some celery, carrots, and onions."

"What about the chicken stock?"

"That only takes four hours. It'll be done before dinner."

"What are you going to do with it? We're not having soup tonight."

"No, but it'll keep in the fridge for a week, and I can use it in other recipes."

She nodded. "You all done?"

"Just finished," he said, removing his coat and tossing it onto a chair. "Does anything else need to be taken care of?"

"Just me," she said with a shy smile.

Will smiled in reply. "Oh, _really?_" He stepped close to her. "And how can I take care of you, my dear?"

"I'm sure we can think of something," she purred in reply.

"Would you two like some time alone?" Logan asked as he walked in.

"Maybe later," Will said casually. "Did you want to review the intelligence files today?"

"Chuck said you caught us up on everythin'."

"We did, but you might catch something that we missed."

"That's okay. I think we can trust you."

"I just thought that a second check wouldn't hurt." He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. I'm just a big believer in redundancy. It's my way of making sure that everybody can do any job. I try to avoid making anyone irreplaceable in my businesses. If I lose that person, the whole structure that I've built my financial success on could collapse. It took me a while to hammer that point home to some of the executives. I finally had to put a quote from Heinlein in all of the offices."

"What's it say?" Rogue asked.

"'Specialization is for insects.'"

* * *

Henry and Bobby, upon their return that evening, were greeted warmly and then given time to relax. Henry brought out a large tin of cookies which Edna, his mother, had made for the X-Men.

"Think it's fair that nobody else can have any?" Bobby asked as he munched on a chocolate cookie with peanut butter chips.

Will leaned back in his chair and looked towards the stairs. "Hey, Bishop, do you want some cookies?" he yelled. After a few seconds of confused silence from the others, he turned back around, shrugging. "I guess he didn't hear me."

"He's in Washington!" Bobby exclaimed.

"That's not my fault," Will replied, taking another cookie.

"And what, oh guardian of our nutritional satisfaction, has been designated for our evening repast?" Henry was obviously back in top form.

"I decided to keep it simple for tonight. We're having chicken pot pie and buttermilk biscuits."

Henry nodded in approval. "I spoke with my mother regarding your culinary skills. She gave me some recipes to pass along to you."

"I won't be accused of swiping McCoy family secrets, will I?"

"Not once you take the oath. I'll teach you the secret handshake later."

"How are you two feeling?" Bobby asked.

"You first," Will shot back. "How's your head?"

"I've still got a slight headache. I had to wear sunglasses, because I almost went snow blind my first day on the slopes. It's not so bad now."

"Do you still need the sunglasses?"

"I think I'll be okay if I stay inside for the next day or so. Besides, I was able to milk some sympathy out of the snow bunnies."

"What did you tell them when they wanted to know how you got hurt?"

"I said I was a photographer, and a high intensity flashbulb went off in my face while I was installing it. _That_ line got me the phone numbers of four would-be models."

"And you tell me that _I'm_ devious?" Will asked Rogue. "At least my limit my scams to people I know I'll never meet again."

"Hey," Bobby protested, "it was all in fun, and they knew it too."

"I'm kidding, Bobby," Will told him with a grin. "I'm just in a good mood today. Do you two have laundry to run through?"

Henry shook his head. "With my mother hovering over me? She even starched my white shirts. You could probably draw blood with the collars."

"If you can still fit in them," Logan teased him. "I've seen how much food she packs into you."

"Farm cooking," Henry shrugged. "Add to that the fact that she became accustomed to feeding an adolescent mutant metabolism."

"I'll have my laundry down in about ten minutes, Will," Bobby said as he stood up. "I just have to unpack and sort through everything."

"Take your time. I'll get to it after dinner."

Bobby nodded and went upstairs.

Will glanced at the clock. "I'd better put the pie in the oven. Be right back."

Henry smiled indulgently as he watched Will head towards the kitchen. "I suspect that that man would make a wonderful grandmother."

"We'll get him a nice frilly apron for Christmas," Logan promised.

"And I'm sure that he'll give you some nice bruises in return," Rogue said sweetly.

"He's got the skills to do it," Logan admitted, "but I'll still get the thing tied around his waist."

Will, meanwhile, had overheard the conversation, and crept silently behind him. "Don't bet on it, Shorty," he said in a rumble which rivaled Logan's. "You might end up being the one wearing the skirt... and I'll add a nice pair of nylons to go with it."

"Nice impression," Henry complimented him.

"Thanks."

* * *

After dinner was finished, Will put the serving dish in the sink to soak overnight, then went up to his room to relax. A few minutes later, there was a knock at his door.

Rogue opened the door and popped her head in before he could say anything. "You doing anything important?" she asked.

"Just inspecting the insides of my eyelids."

"Feel like going out?"

"Can I get some time to relax first?"

"Sure. What do you want to do?"

"That'll be your choice. This'll be your first night out in a while, so I think you deserve to indulge."

"Why don't we just go out for ice cream?"

"All right. In half an hour, then?"

"See you then."

The free half-hour gave Rogue a chance to shower and freshen up. She chose a bright red turtleneck and blue skirt, then added a black vest, gloves, and hose, ending with a pair of red pumps. Glancing at the collection of perfumes on her dresser, she chose Erin Mist, the scent which Will had responded so positively to back in Dublin.

She decided to meet Will at his door, and went down the hall, where she encountered Logan at the stairs. "Nice outfit," he complimented her. Then he sniffed the air. "New perfume?"

"I got it back in Dublin. Will and I are going out for a little while."

"Have a blast."

She smiled. "We're going out for dessert, not to a nightclub. We shouldn't be out long." She gave him an amused look. "You think you remember how to run everything?"

"I think I can dredge it out of my memory," he replied dryly. "Go on, get out of here."

"Yes, _sir_," Rogue said, giving him a snappy mock salute. She walked to the men's wing and knocked on Will's door.

"Come in," Will invited her. She entered, finding that he was slipping into his shoes and putting on a grey vest to go with his white shirt and royal blue slacks. "I'm running a little late," he apologized.

"We're not on a timetable," she told him with a shrug, as she closed the door behind her. "Don't worry about it."

"I hate being late just on general principle." He finished buttoning up his vest, then opened the drawer of his night table and pulled out a shoulder holster, putting it on. The holster was designed to fit over the wearer's back, and wasn't visible once he put his jacket on. He pulled his pistol out of the drawer and stuffed it into the holster.

"Do you really need that?" she asked him.

"Normally, I wouldn't carry it," he admitted, "but I don't feel well enough to trust in my powers completely yet. I'd like to carry some insurance, just as a precaution." Noticing that Rogue looked unhappy about it, he sighed. "Look, if you think, beyond a doubt, that you're in top form, I'll leave it here. But I'm not going to take unnecessary risks when we're both just off the inactive list."

Rogue thought about it for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "All right. But I want you to know that I don't like it."

"I don't like being this paranoid either," Will agreed, "but I appear to be very good at it." He put on a blue, three-buttoned linen jacket, then added a pair of black gloves. "I forgot something," he said to himself, frowning. He rolled his eyes and grabbed a belt from his closet, putting it on. "Almost ready," he promised her as he placed his wallet, pen, keys, and handkerchief into his pockets. "All set," he said. He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him. Smiling, she left his room and headed for the stairs.

They waved to Bobby and Henry as they left the mansion. Once they were outside, Will created a Door, and they walked through it to appear in downtown Salem Center, at the wooded area of a small park which was near the center of town.

"Why did you bring us here?" she asked him.

"The tree cover gives us an edge in case somebody sees us. This way, we can say we were behind a tree and it'll be plausible."

They walked a few blocks down the street to the ice cream parlor, which was, surprisingly, not very crowded. A waitress walked over from the counter. "Counter seats or booth?" she asked with a polite smile.

They looked at one another, then smiled. "Booth," they said together. The waitress nodded and led them to a seat near the back which offered some privacy.

"Slow night?" Will asked.

"Report cards went out today," the waitress answered with a grin. "A lot of our regulars will be staying home for the next few days."

Will nodded. "I can relate. I was never the greatest student." He glanced at the list of flavors on the wall, then looked at Rogue. "What looks good to you?"

"I'll have a banana split with butter pecan, vanilla fudge, and strawberry ice cream, with caramel topping."

"I'll have a regular sundae with hot tin roof and rocky road, with hot fudge, peanut butter sauce, and peanut butter cups," Will told the waitress. He glanced at the menu. "And a large chocolate malt with two straws."

"All right," the waitress confirmed, writing down the order. "Would you like water with that?"

"Yes, please," Will nodded, handing the menu back to her.

"That'll be about five minutes," she told them as she walked to the counter.

"Two straws?" Rogue asked with a smile.

"It seemed the thing to do," he shrugged.

"That's nice," she murmured, placing her elbows on the table and leaning towards him.

"I try."

Their order arrived quickly, and they found that they didn't have much time for talking, as their sundaes were melting quickly. They polished them off rather quickly, and attacked the shake next, after following the obligatory ritual of blowing the straw wrappers at one another.

Rogue felt like she was living in a movie from the Fifties as she looked into Will's eyes from the opposite side of the soda glass, and couldn't help giggling. "What's so funny?" Will asked.

"I feel like I should be wearing a poodle skirt and bobby socks."

"I'll look into buying a car with tail fins."

* * *

"I am _stuffed_," Rogue declared as they walked back to the park.

"Me too," Will confessed. "I think I'll be scheduling some extra exercise sessions."

"I'll be right behind you. Can we sit down?" she asked. "I could use a few minutes to rest."

"Are you okay?" he asked in a concerned voice as they reclined in a nearby park bench.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "You've just been pampering me so much lately that I'm getting a little soft."

"But I _like_ you that way," he told her with a smile. "There are certain soft parts to you that I find very intriguing."

"Lecher," she teased him. She swung her legs up onto the bench and lay on her back, placing her head in Will's lap.

"You're not going to go to sleep on me again, are you?"

"Nah. I just wanted to relax for a second." She reached up and gently touched his cheek. "I like to be able to relax around you."

Will caressed the underside of her chin, slowly moving his hand down her neck. "I'm glad that you _can_ relax around me. I don't want you to think you have anything to be uncomfortable about with me."

"Keep doing that," she purred.

"Making you comfortable?"

"Well, there's that... I meant what you're doing now." She closed her eyes blissfully. "It feels good."

He flushed slightly. "Oh. Okay. Tell me when to stop." He continued to stroke the hollow of her throat, slowly widening the area covered by his light massage.

"Lower," she instructed him. He complied, covering her collarbones and sternum.

"You're missing some spots."

"I am _not_ going to massage those spots in a public area," he told her firmly. "The last thing I need is a misdemeanor for public lewdness on my record." He tensed under her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, still too relaxed to open her eyes.

"We've got company."

She laughed. "What, are some kids violating curfew?"

"_No, Rogue_," he said in a low voice, "_**my** kind of company_."

Her eyes snapped open to find that his were glowing. "What is it?" she demanded, now all business.

"_See for yourself_."

She stood up, looking around. The moon, which had not been visible a few minutes before, was now a crescent high in the sky, casting silvery light through the trees and leaving long, twisting shadows on the ground. High in those trees, shadowed outlines of figures perched on the limbs, gazing down at them with eyes whose green glow matched Will's silver.

"Will," she asked nervously, "what's happening?"

His response was very matter-of-fact.

"_There's magic afoot_."


	32. Chapter 32

The shades moved among the branches of the trees with the grace of spiders within their webs, encircling Will and Rogue. They were silent, staring down at them with unblinking eyes whose soft, eerie green light shone through the leaves.

Will gestured to Rogue, indicating that she should stay where she was. Seeing her worried look, he gave her a reassuring smile. Taking a step forward, he looked around at the figures. "_Who are you_," he said in a loud voice, "_and what do you want?_"

Whispers echoed through the trees, dashing from side to side, but never staying still long enough for Rogue to get a bearing on them. They had a dry, hissing aspect to them, reminding her of wet wood steaming in a hot fire.

"_You are the guardian..._"

"_Tale keeper..._"

"_Call me what you choose_," Will told them, crossing his arms. "_What do you want of me?_"

"_Bargain..._"

"_Compact..._"

"_I have made no compact with you_," Will said firmly. "_I am under no obligations_."

"_It does not understand..._"

"_No..._"

"_Wrong..._"

"_Burden not yours..._"

"_I do not understand_," Will confessed.

"_Our obligation..._"

"_Our bond..._"

"_Help you..._"

"_With what?_"

"_Struggle..._"

"_Conflict..._"

"_War..._"

Rogue stepped forward so that she entered Will's field of vision. "You're talking about Will's fight with Apocalypse?"

The whispers intensified, becoming angry and menacing. "_Apocalypse..._"

"_Murderer..._"

"_Ravager..._"

"You want to help Will fight Apocalypse? That will help you fulfill your oath?"

"_Yes..._"

"_Free us..._"

"_Rest..._"

"What kind of help are you offering?"

"_Teach..._"

"_Guide..._"

"_Protect..._"

"_Guard..._"

"_How can you do this?_" Will asked.

"_Ancient One's pupil..._"

"_Will lead you..._"

"_We will protect..._"

"_Guard from within shadows..._"

"_Call on us..._"

"_We will come..._"

"_And who are you?_"

The whispers were silent for a moment. "_We have no name_."

"_You were never finished?_" Will asked, shocked.

"_No..._" they replied in a despairing moan.

"_Never..._"

"_Incomplete..._"

Will sighed regretfully. "_What a waste_."

"What's wrong?" Rogue asked him.

"_There are certain entities that don't become fully sentient until they find a way to differentiate themselves from the rest of the collective consciousness. They need a name to complete the process, and become fully self-aware. Without one, they can never grow, never change. They'll live in a continuous state of semi-existence. They're asking me to name, and define, each of them, and complete a cycle that was interrupted long ago_."

Rogue whistled. "That's... one heavy burden."

"_The heaviest_." He looked back up. "_You will wait until your task is complete?_"

"_Yes..._"

"_Duty..._"

"_Promise..._"

"_Then I will call on you when the time is right_." He started to turn away, then faced them again. "_Until then, you will guard the members of the X-Men and Excalibur from any magical attacks directed against them. Do you understand?_"

"_Understand..._"

"_Obey..._"

"_Good. I will seek the one you spoke of. Please return us now_."

The world darkened for a moment, and the light from the street lamps reappeared around them.

"Are we back?" Rogue asked timidly.

"_Yes_," Will replied. "_And I doubt that..._" He sighed, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his eyes had stopped glowing. "I doubt that any time passed while we were gone," he said in his normal voice.

"So what do we do now?"

"We head back home, I guess. I'm going to have to get up early tomorrow and make a call."

"To who?"

"I have to make an appointment with a doctor in Manhattan."

* * *

"The Doctor will see you now."

"Thank you," Will said, closing his magazine and putting it back in his briefcase. He looked at Rogue. "Coming?"

Rogue nodded and stood up. They followed their guide through a set of double doors.

"Your eleven o'clock appointment is here, Master." The guide said to the man at the desk.

"Thank you, Wong. Please bring in some tea for our guests."

"Yes, Master."

Stephen Strange stood up, walking up to Will and shaking his hand warmly. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Mister Riley. Your reputation precedes you." He was dressed in a rather dapper blue suit with a red jacket.

"As does yours, Doctor. And please, call me Will."

Strange nodded in reply, then greeted Rogue. "It's been a while, Rogue. How's Xavier?"

"Still the same. Still bald."

"Is there a reason you came along?"

"I'm keeping an eye on him to make sure he stays out of trouble."

"Fine," Will said, "but who's going to keep an eye on you?"

Strange looked at Rogue sympathetically. "You have my pity."

"Thanks. I can use all the help I can get."

Strange laughed. "What seems to be your problem?"

They gave Strange a detailed account of their conversation of the night before, filling in details regarding Will's powers and his conflicts with Apocalypse. "So I was advised to come to you," Will finished. "Do you have any suggestions for me?"

Strange thought for a few moments. "I can think of a few approaches that might work, but they're all a bit risky."

"Doctor," Rogue said pointedly, "You've probably heard about what happened in Syria. Do you think that he's the type to avoid risk?"

"The risk that's involved is more psychological than physical. Once you open certain doorways of perception, you see, they can never be fully closed again."

"Pandora's box," Will confirmed.

"Not quite. Pandora's box was filled with limitations, horrors, and obstacles to growth. What I'm describing is more along the lines of learning how to ride a bike."

"Once you learn how, you never forget," Rogue finished.

"Exactly. It won't be an easy process, I'm afraid. You'll be tapping into aspects of reality that most rational people would avoid like the plague."

"Well, I'm not known for my rationality," Will replied, "and I don't think a plague could kill me."

"We're agreed, then?"

"Yes. How often would you like to meet?"

"One afternoon a week seems sufficient."

"I'll have to clear the time with the Xavier and the top brass of the X-Men."

"Of course. Just call me when you have everything worked out." Strange stood up. "I'd like to get some idea of your strength, if you don't mind. Would you be willing to let me monitor you during a display of your powers?"

"Completely," Will said in an agreeable tone. He also stood up, joining Strange in an area of the room where the floor was bare.

"What would you like me to do?" Will asked once Strange said that he was ready.

"What's your default mode for your powers?" Strange asked.

"I don't understand the question."

"He means whether they're on or off whenever you're not thinking about them," Rogue supplied. "Kitty's default mode is off, and mine is on."

"Oh. I suppose that they're on, then. I keep blocks up, and lower them when I need to, but I'm always aware of the Chorus to some degree."

Strange nodded, then made a few gestures. The area that Will was standing on was slowly surrounded by a circle of white light, which settled on the floor. "A safety precaution," he reassured Will.

Will nodded. "Ready?" he asked. At Strange's nod, he lowered his shields and opened his mind to the Chorus.

Rogue watched as Will's eyes acquired their familiar glow. What she was _not_ expecting, however, was the silver and purple aura which surrounded him. She looked at Strange. "Are you doing that?" she asked him.

"I'm making it visible," was his reply, "but it's all coming from him."

Rogue nodded, entranced by the sight.

The aura started to brighten and expand, filling the circle, then moving beyond it. "Is that dangerous?" Rogue asked.

"No. It's just a visible reflection of his power." Strange looked at Will with a look which mixed respect, awe, and a small dose of fear. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen." Seeing Rogue's worried look, he smiled reassuringly. "He's more powerful than I had expected, that's all." He inclined his head towards the aura, which was still expanding. "Most people have an aura which extends about three feet in any direction. His psyche is so strong that it's reflected in his aura, and..." He paused as he noticed that the aura was expanding past the confines of the room. "We'd better follow that." He offered his hand to Rogue. "Are you familiar with astral travel?"

"I did it a few times with the Professor back when I first joined the team," she replied. "You don't have to actually touch me, do you?"

"No. Being in contact with your aura is enough."

"All right." She took his hand, and a moment later she felt herself floating out of her body, and through the ceiling of the building. Looking down at herself, she saw that she was little more than an idealized outline, surrounded by a red aura which was close to her 'body'. She turned her gaze to Strange, and found that his astral form was much more precise than hers, nearly indistinguishable from his physical body. "_Your astral form gets more complex with practice?_" she guessed.

"_Yes. And I bring many of my talismans and magical aids with me when I travel on the astral plane_." They left the building and floated up, looking for the outer limits of Will's aura_. "Buddhist legend says that the Buddha's aura was visible for three miles_."

"_I think I see it_," Rogue said. After a few more seconds, they passed through a light, narrow fog of purple mist. "_Was that it?_"

"_Yes_." They looked back down.

"_Oh, my_," Strange said. They were nearly a mile above the ground.

"_Does this mean we're in trouble?_" Rogue asked.

"_No, but it does mean that I have my work cut out for me. He hasn't had any training?_"

"_Not that he's told us about. We'd better get back and have him raise his shields before he fries half the city's computers_."

"_Right_." They started to descend. "_Does he disrupt electronics regularly?_"

"_He shorted out everything Apocalypse had in his base, from what I was told_."

"_You weren't there?_"

"_I was, but I wasn't in any condition to notice_."

"_Ah_." They passed back through the roof of the building, and lowered themselves back to the floor where their bodies were. "_Here you are_," Strange said, as he dropped her back down. "_Take a deep breath once you're back in_."

Rogue felt a slight jolt, and filled her lungs with air as she opened her eyes. "That's quite a rush," she admitted.

"It's tempting to stay too long," Strange agreed. He looked at Will, whose eyes were staring into space. "That's enough, Will," he told him.

Will closed his eyes, and the aura contracted rapidly, with occasional pauses. When it had reached a distance of about nine feet around him, he opened his eyes. "Was that what you wanted?" he asked Strange politely.

"It told me what I needed to know. I think I'd better talk with Xavier face to face regarding your instruction. If you don't mind, I'd like to call ahead and let him know that I'll be accompanying you to Salem Center. Please excuse me while I call him." He left the room.

"Was it that bad?" Will asked Rogue with a worried look.

"Let's just say that you and he are going to have some _long_ talks."

* * *

Strange politely declined Will's offer of teleportation, choosing to use his own, magical resources to get to the mansion. He was only a few seconds behind them, materializing on the front porch and politely knocking.

"Why do you bother?" Will asked as he opened the door.

"Etiquette."

Xavier left his office and greeted Strange. "How have you been, Stephen?"

"You just threw me a curve ball, Charles." He pointed at Will. "Meet my new project."

Xavier looked at Will and sighed. "What did you do now, Will?"

Will raised his hands in surrender. "Only what I was instructed to do."

"It's not that he's done anything," Strange clarified, "it's just that he's far too powerful to be walking around untrained. Everything that he's done so far has been intuitive, but intuition only gets you so far. I'd like to arrange a schedule where Will would, barring an emergency, come to my residence to get some lessons in focus and control."

Xavier considered that. "It does make sense. _I_ certainly don't have the resources."

"I'd like to come along," Rogue announced. When she found three surprised looks directed towards her, she explained. "I may not have any magical skill, but somebody's going to need the background to tell if anything's going wrong with Will outside of the lessons. And I have to admit, there's a part of me that wants to learn some of what I was able to do against the Adversary."

"Do you have any objection, Stephen?" Xavier asked.

"As long as you don't interfere with what we'll be doing, Rogue, you're welcome as an observer. But I'll let you know now that there will be times when you'll be asked to leave."

"I understand."

They all agreed to four hours of instruction per week, starting the following week. Strange and Will shook hands on the agreement, and Strange left.

"It seems that you've had a busy day," Xavier commented as they all entered the kitchen.

Will nodded in agreement. "Putting all those blocks back up was a pain. I think I'm going to rest for a little while. I'll be in my room." He went up the stairs.

"Was he that powerful?" Xavier asked Rogue once Will was out of earshot.

"Strange was really impressed by him, and I get the feeling that he's not an easy man to impress."

"What's the real reason you want to go along?"

"I want to make sure nothing happens to him. I realized last night that he's really vulnerable right now."

"How so?"

"Well, think about it. For weeks, he was geared up to fight Apocalypse. Now that he's done it, he has to find something else to focus on. You've seen the way his attention wanders."

"That's true, but how does that make him vulnerable?"

"Let's say you're one of those magical groups who hides in the shadows, and you want to take one of your enemies down. What better way than showing up to Will as one of those weird events that keeps happening to him, and convincing him that your goal is a way to help the Chorus?"

"I think Will's too cynical to be that gullible."

"Maybe, but I've seen his powers in action more than you have. If there's any really strong magic in the area, it's going to be attracted to him, and it'll have some kind of effect on him. I want to be able to recognize the signs that something's happening to him, so I can snap him out of it if I have to. I may also be able to learn how to help him recover faster when he's drained."

Xavier nodded thoughtfully. "I can't argue with your reasoning. I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I've been hip-deep in it ever since I met him. I'm just making it official now."

* * *

Warren and Betsy returned to the mansion a few hours later, and promptly started showing off the things which they had bought during their shopping trips. As Warren recounted a chance encounter with a starlet to Bobby and Henry, Will politely tapped Betsy on the shoulder. "Can I speak with you privately for a moment?" he asked. Betsy nodded, surprised, and they went up the stairs to the main hallway.

"There's no easy way for me to say this," Will said after taking a deep breath, "so I'll just say it. I owe you an apology."

Betsy tilted her head quizzically. "For what? You haven't been rude to me once since you came here."

"Yes, I have," Will disagreed. "I've just been doing it in my own way." He sat down at the top of the steps. "I've been letting my ancestry interfere with my objectivity. I was determined not to like you when I first got here, solely on the basis of your background. I haven't been giving you the credit you deserve for supporting me against Scott, or for your willingness to go to bat against Apocalypse on my behalf." He stood up again. "I'd like the opportunity to start over again." He held out one hand. "Hi. I'm called Will Riley."

Betsy didn't even hesitate. She shook his hand firmly. "Pleased to meet you, Will. I'm Betsy."

* * *

As Will and Betsy came back down, Rogue motioned for Betsy to come over. "Can you help me with some shopping?" she asked softly.

"Do you need some fashion tips?"

"I do, but not for me. I want to get Will something."

"All right." They announced that they would be out for a while, and took the Saab 9000 that Warren had kept at the garage of his penthouse. They reached the Salem Center Mall a few minutes later.

"Have you got any ideas?" Betsy asked.

"I don't know," Rogue admitted. "I'm not sure if clothes are the way to go. Let's just look around and see if anything catches our eye." They didn't find anything in the bookstores, and agreed that Will was not the type to wear any of the clothes which were popular at the moment.

They were about to fall back on that old masculine standby, a tie, when they passed a window display. "Betsy," Rogue announced, "I think I've found it."

Betsy looked, then smiled. "The one in the back, right?"

"Right."

She nodded. "I think it'll be perfect. We should let Charles know." She closed her eyes for thirty seconds or so. "He says no problem."

* * *

Will was relaxing in the sitting room, reading that week's _Time_, when Rogue and Betsy returned. "Everybody gather 'round!" Rogue announced. "We've got a surprise!"

Will put the magazine down, and joined everyone in the living room. Rogue was carrying a large gift box, topped with a red ribbon, which she put on the table.

"Will," Betsy said, "between coming back for us, and then sending us all off on free vacations, we felt that we owed you something small in return. After talking about it, Rogue and I decided that this was meant for you."

Will looked at the box dubiously for a moment. "You didn't have to get me anything," he protested.

"No, we didn't," Rogue agreed, "but we wanted to. And if you don't take it, I'm going to become sad and start crying."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Will sat down on the couch and lifted the top off the box. As he looked in, they all watched his face switch from surprise to delight. "Oh, my..." he breathed.

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

Will didn't answer, but reached into the box slowly, lifting out a black, grey, and white cat, who looked at all of them with wide green eyes.

"Aw," Bobby said in a soft voice, "she's adorable."

Will gently set the cat on the floor. She looked at all of them in turn, then meowed softly. "Does she have a name?" he asked.

"The store didn't know," Betsy said. "She was on display from the local shelter. She was scheduled to go back at the end of the week, and she would have been put to sleep. She's been spayed and declawed."

The cat walked over to Will, who put his hand out for her to sniff. She touched her nose to his hand, then rubbed her head against it.

"She seems to like you," Bobby said to Will.

"She's marking me with her scent," he replied. "It's a message to other cats that she's my owner."

"Don't you mean that you're her owner?" Warren asked.

"You've obviously never had a cat."

The subject of the conversation was now walking around the room, sniffing at each of the X-Men in turn. She seemed to be a bit confused by Xavier's chair, batting at it once or twice. She finally hopped onto the couch, curled up into a ball, then fell asleep.

"I'll have to go out and get some litter," Will said as he stood up.

"We got some already," Rogue told him. "The store gave us a package deal. We have a litter box, a bag of the litter she was using in the cage she was in, so she'll be used to it, box liners, a week's worth of food, a food and water bowl, and a flea collar."

Will nodded as he went back over to the sleeping cat and stroked her gently. "Betsy, Rogue... thank you."

"Our pleasure," Rogue told him. "What are you going to name her?"

He didn't answer, but placed his hand on her head and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I think I'll call her Smoke."

"That's a good name for a magician's cat," Logan agreed.

"We'd better put her things in the kitchen," Bobby suggested. "It'll be easier to clean up that way."

A few minutes later, everything was in place. "That should be easy to clean up," Will said. Then he glanced at the clock. "I'd better get started on dinner. If Smoke wakes up, could someone bring her in here and show her where the litter box is?"

"No problem," Logan said. "What's for dinner?"

"The roast chicken I told you about when we went shopping. Should be ready by six or so."

"Need any help?" Rogue asked.

"I think I can manage."

As everyone filed out of the kitchen, Will took the chicken out of the refrigerator and prepared it for roasting. After it was in the oven, he started to prepare the stuffing, then turned to look at the items for the cat. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears for a moment. Will composed himself, smiling idiotically, then got back to work.

* * *

_Authors Note_: This chapter is dedicated to Juno, my cat (AKA: She Who Must Be Obeyed). 


	33. Chapter 33

Jean ran her smart card over the security plate, unlocking the front gate, and she and Scott entered the Institute grounds. "I wish we'd left earlier," Scott complained.

"You were the one who wanted to finish seeing the game with my father," Jean countered.

"I didn't want to be impolite."

"So _that's_ why you were yelling that the umpire was blind."

They pulled off the main road and took the right fork which led to the boat house. "I'm starving," Scott said. "Do you want to order something?"

"I'm too tired to bother. We'll just buzz the mansion and see if there's any leftovers."

As they approached their house, they noticed that someone was standing on the front porch. "Is that Will?" Scott asked.

"Looks like it." They stopped the car and got out. "Hello, Will," Jean said in greeting.

"Hello yourself. Did you two get any dinner?"

"We were just about to call over and see what was left over."

"No need." He picked up a covered dish that was on the porch. "Chicken casserole. Twenty minutes at four hundred degrees should be enough to heat it back up." As he handed it to her, he leaned close to her and added "I owed you a meal, remember?" in a low voice.

Jean nodded imperceptibly and took the dish. "Thanks. What did you guys have?"

"Chicken Madiera with angel hair pasta."

"Sounds a little rich."

Will shrugged. "We had a light lunch, and I didn't make any dessert. It all evens out eventually."

"Any problems while we were gone?" Scott inquired as he removed the suitcases from the trunk.

Will shook his head. "It's been a quiet week. Bishop just got back this afternoon."

"What did he think of Washington?" Jean asked.

"Well, between the Smithsonian and the war memorials, he seems to have had his fill of history for a while." Will thought for a moment. "It was 'The Wall' that really made an impression on him, though."

"Did he say why?"

"As I understand it, the memorials - or what their equivalent will be - of his era were made of memory chips and holograms. The simplicity of the Vietnam memorial was unlike anything he'd seen before." He yawned. "I'm off to bed. See you two tomorrow." Will started walking towards the mansion.

"How did you know we were back?" Scott asked before he was out of earshot.

"Magic!" Will yelled back over his shoulder.

Scott looked at Jean. "Do you think he was kidding?"

Jean thought about it for a moment. "I wouldn't make any bets."

* * *

Everyone gathered in the conference room at nine the next morning. Scott had wanted to start at seven, but Jean had 'accidentally' unplugged the alarm clock before going to bed.

"Is everybody well rested?" Scott asked sarcastically as he sat down.

"No complaints," Logan said with a grin. "How are your folks doin', Jean?"

"My mom's starting an exercise group at Bard College for faculty spouses, and my dad's a candidate for chair of his department. He'll find out next month."

"Good for him," Bobby said.

"By the way, Will, I wanted to ask you... can I have the recipe for that casserole? It was delicious."

"It's a no-brainer, Jean. Cubed, boiled chicken, instant stuffing, celery, and one can each of cream of chicken and cream of mushroom soup. Mix well, place in a dish, cover with plain bread crumbs, and bake until everything melts together."

"Great."

"Can we get to work?" Scott asked impatiently.

"Yes, Boss," Warren sighed.

"We haven't found anything suspicious during out media sweeps," Will said, "but we did become aware of a possibility for an armistice in Genosha."

"We're working through Moreau and Ransome?" Henry asked.

"As soon as my channels can reach them," Xavier assured him.

"Any files left to catch up on?" Jean asked.

"Everything's in order," Betsy said.

"They even cleaned the house while we were all gone," Bishop added.

Jean looked at Rogue critically. "Are you _sure_ you're feeling okay?"

"Very cute, Jean," Rogue replied dryly.

"All right," Scott announced, "if that's everything, then we'll have a Danger Room session at noon. I want everybody there and in uniform."

Henry held up a warning hand. "I still have to examine Bobby, Will, and Rogue, Scott."

"How long will that take?"

"I want to do a full neurological scan on Bobby, and complete physicals for both Will and Rogue, so three to four hours total. You can do without the four of us for one training session," he finished in a stern voice which cut off Scott's protests. "This is a medical decision, Scott, and as such falls under _my_ purview."

"Do what you feel is warranted, Henry," Ororo said. "We are going to have enough problems getting back into routine. Putting in an extra session today or tomorrow will not kill us."

"All right, you three," Henry ordered in an authoritative voice, "follow me." Will, Rogue, and Bobby dutifully stood up and trailed behind him. Henry ignored the fact that Will marched.

"Who's first?" Bobby asked when they reached the medlab.

"You are," Henry replied. "There's no need for me to run from station to station. We'll give you a CAT scan, run a few tests, and then you'll be free until I get the results."

"I'll stay on this side of the lab," Will offered, "just in case my power flares up."

"Not a bad idea," Henry said in agreement. With Rogue's help, he ran Bobby through the scanner, then administered a series of tests to judge his mental acuity and reaction time. A vision test showed that Bobby was still somewhat sensitive to bright light, so Henry gave him some shaded glasses to prevent any migraine headaches. "We'll gradually lighten the shading over the next week or so."

"Okay," Bobby agreed. "You'll work on something that won't crack when I use my powers?"

"I'll see if I can finagle a transparent variation of the polymer we used for your restraining belt."

"Restraining belt?" Will asked.

"I once had my powers magnified," Bobby told him. "Please don't ask how. I wasn't able to deal with the increase at first, so I wore a restraining belt that we turned down gradually over a few months, until I could learn to adjust."

Will frowned. "Wouldn't that be as risky as a dampening collar?"

"Not in this case," Henry replied. "The belt lowered Bobby's power threshold, but it didn't block them as much as channel them into itself."

"The thing was insulated as hell," Bobby confirmed, "and weighed a ton. I was so glad to be rid of it that I bought drinks for the entire team at Harry's the night it came off."

"That must have set you back."

"It wasn't too bad. Logan was away that day."

"Okay, Bobby, get lost," Rogue told him. "Will and I still have to get the McCoy stamp of approval."

"Right. See you at lunch."

After Bobby had shut the door behind him, Henry turned to Rogue and Will. "Who's next?"

"I am, I guess," Will said. He took off his gloves, shirt, and T-shirt, then hopped onto the examining table.

Henry washed his hands with a disinfectant soap, then looked at Rogue. "Are you staying?" he asked her.

"I figured I could help with some of the tests."

"Do you mind, Will?"

Will shook his head. "No objections."

"If you say so," Henry replied with a shrug.

Rogue took off her leather gloves and donned a lab coat, then washed her hands and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. "Ready."

"Could you take notes, please?" Henry asked her.

"Sure." She picked up a clipboard and pen from a file bin on the wall.

Will proved to be in fine health, although he did complain of having some lower back pain. "That's not surprising, though," he noted. "I've had back problems for a few years."

"I can prescribe a painkiller, if you like."

"I'd like to avoid any drugs if I can." Will thought for a moment. "Is there a chiropractor nearby who can be trusted? Maybe somebody on the Underground list?"

"It's worth a look. I'll ask Charles." Henry completed the physical with hearing and vision tests. Will proved to have keen hearing, and while he was slightly farsighted, he was able to discern some extra letters that Henry had added to the chart using an ink visible only under infrared light. "That should do it," he told Will.

"Aw," Rogue pouted. "I was hoping you'd ask him to turn and cough."

Will blushed bright red, but managed to keep his face impassive. "Not until I see your nurse's license," he said firmly.

"Does that mean we can't play doctor later?" she asked innocently.

"We'll talk." He finished dressing and stood up. "Well," he told her, "I'll leave you two alone."

"Sure you don't want to watch?"

Will fled.

Rogue and Henry both burst into laughter once Will was out of earshot. "That was mean," he told her reprovingly. "Inspired, but mean."

"I have my moments."

* * *

Henry cleared Rogue for light duty, and she went up to the kitchen to see if Will needed any help. She found that he was making a large bowl of tuna salad while toasting about a dozen and a half English muffins. "What's on the menu?" she asked him.

"Tuna melts and Caesar salad." He placed the muffins on a baking sheet and placed the tuna salad on top of each one, using an ice cream scoop. He then topped each melt with a slice of provolone cheese and placed them in the oven. He attacked the salad ingredients next, using his chef's knife to slice up the lettuce. He took the napkin off a bowl that had been covered, revealing a large pile of croutons, which he mixed into the salad. "Made them just after breakfast," he explained. A few minutes later, he had grated up a large pile of Romano cheese and mixed up a vinaigrette dressing, finishing just as the oven beeped.

"Want me to get those?" Rogue asked.

"Could you, please? I still have to set the table." He grabbed plates and silverware and put them in their proper places on the table. When he returned, he placed the melts on a serving platter, holding them in one hand and the salad bowl in the other. "Could you get the glasses, please?" he asked her.

"Coming right up." They had everything in place just as everyone started filtering in.

The Danger Room session had worked up quite an appetite in everyone, and the meal was quickly devoured. "Nice work," Warren complimented Will.

"Thanks. You've got dish duty, by the way."

Warren grimaced. "I should have kept quiet."

Xavier gestured to get Will's attention. "Henry said you wanted to see a chiropractor about your back. I called an Underground member who practices here in Salem Center. She has a three o'clock appointment open if you want to go in for an exam."

Will nodded. "Just give me the address and I'll be there. I assume she'll accept cash?"

"She will, but the exam and first adjustment are free, and she said that she wouldn't charge any of the X-Men anyway."

"I'll accept a free exam, but I'll pay for any future adjustments. I pay for an honest hour's work. I'm not going to take advantage of any of our contacts just because they sympathize with our goals."

"You may have to argue that point with her."

"We'll see." He wiped his mouth and stood up. "I'd better get ready, then." He went upstairs and put on a light jacket, deciding to forgo wearing any weapons to avoid making the doctor nervous. He did, however, place a dagger in his briefcase.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Rogue joined him. "Want some company?" she asked.

"I'm not sure if the doctor will let you watch, but you came come along if you want. We can do some shopping when we're done." He created a Door. "After you."

They appeared at the same park location where they were the night they had ice cream. "Which way from here?" Will asked.

"It's a few blocks uptown. We can be there in ten minutes."

He glanced at his watch. "Good. That should give me half an hour or so for paperwork."

Twelve minutes later, Will was filling out some forms asking about his medical history. Rogue busied herself by reading the magazines and literature which filled the waiting room table. "Think this could work on me?" she asked him in a low voice.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Your invulnerability would be a bigger problem than your absorption. You may be too resilient for your spine to be adjusted. You can ask, I guess." He finished answering the questions on the form, signed the release, and handed everything to the receptionist. They waited, listening to the soft, New Age music that came in over a speaker.

Less than three minutes later, a petite, dark-haired woman walked out to greet them. "Hello, Mister Riley," she said in a friendly voice. "I'm Doctor Dellamara. Please call me Maria." She had a round, smiling face, and could more properly be called pretty than attractive.

"Pleased to meet you, Maria," Will replied as he shook her hand. "This is May. She's never been to a chiropractor before, and she was wondering if she could watch you at work."

"Of course. Please follow me."

She led them to an office in the back of the building, shutting the door behind her as they entered. "You don't need to use a false name if you don't want to, Rogue. I know who you are."

Since the doctor was a member of the Underground, Rogue wasn't too surprised. "That was more for the sake of your receptionist."

"That's what I thought. Did Xavier have some reason for sending you?"

"No, Maria," Will replied. I'm here for the exact reason all of your other patients are. I'm having some back problems, and since my metabolism sometimes has reactions to medication, I'd like to try a longer-term solution."

Maria nodded. "What about you, Rogue?"

"Same thing. No ulterior motive. If we can figure out a way around my powers, I might try it, too."

"Fair enough. Have you done this before, Will?"

"I've had exams before. Do you want me to stand on the scales first?"

"Please." Will kicked off his shoes and walked over to a pair of bathroom scales which were against one wall of the office, placing one foot on each one. Maria looked at the readings on each scale, writing them down on the chart. "You're right-handed, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"How could you tell that?" Rogue asked.

"People tend to put more weight on the dominant side of their bodies. That places stress on the spine."

Rogue nodded, remaining silent as Maria asked Will to remove his shirt, then run through a series of stretches to determine his range of motion. She measured his neck motion using a device that bore some similarity to a protractor. Rogue left the room with Maria while Will's back and neck were X-rayed, then waited with Will while the film was developed.

"I'm not surprised you have back pain, Will," Maria announced when she walked back in. "Your spine is lit up like a Christmas tree."

"Given what I've gone through over the past few weeks, that's hardly a revelation. Do you think long-term therapy will do any good?"

"I think so. Once we start correcting the misalignments, your back will be a bit more resilient to future damage. Lie down and I'll point out where the problem areas are." Will complied, lying face-down on the table and placing his face in the built-in recess at the head.

"You may want to see this, Rogue," Maria said. Once Rogue stood on the other side of the table, she started probing with her fingers at certain spots along Will's spine. "If you look at the X-ray, you can see spots where his vertebrae are compressed and twisted. Because of that, the signals that his nervous system is sending aren't getting through properly, and the end result is pain and other difficulties. What we're going to be doing is slowly realigning his spine so that those signals can flow without any impediment."

Rogue nodded; she had learned enough about medicine during her years in the X-Men to qualify as an EMT in most states, and was able to understand what the doctor was talking about. "How do you realign?"

Maria didn't answer her directly, but went to the head of the table and took Will's head in her hands. "Okay, Will," she said in a soothing voice, "relax your neck... relax... relax..." With a swift motion, she twisted his head to the left. A snap could be heard from Will's neck.

Rogue winced. "Are you okay?" she asked Will. "That sounded painful."

"I'm fine," he replied in a contented voice.

"All you heard was fluid moving very quickly to an opening created by the manipulation," Maria assured her. "It's the same thing that happens when you crack your knuckles."

Rogue heard several other snaps as Maria continued to manipulate Will's spine, slowly moving down towards his lower back. At one point, she asked him to turn onto his side, where she applied pressure downward and adjusted his spine laterally.

The entire process took about half an hour. Will stood up and stretched, breathing deeply. "Gods, that felt wonderful," he sighed. "Thank you, Maria. How often would you like to schedule?"

"Let's start with three times a week, then work our way down from there."

"All right. Who should I write the checks to?"

She shook her head. "This'll be on the house. I owe too much to Xavier and you guys."

"I don't mean to be flippant," Will told her, "but I'm still working on getting the background on everything. What did we do for you?"

"My brother's a mutant," she explained. "He underwent genetic testing when he joined the Army, and Kitty Pryde cracked the DOD computers to change the results. He's a captain serving in Germany now."

Will nodded. "Sneaky. I like it."

"I've still got an hour and a half until my next appointment, Rogue. I can give you an exam now, if you want."

"You can do it with rubber gloves on?"

"Easily."

"Okay, then."

"I'll be in the waiting room," Will announced.

"Oh no you won't," Rogue told him firmly. "You'll stay right here."

"I will?"

"He will?" Maria echoed.

"Yes," Rogue announced. "You wouldn't know, Maria, but he and I are involved. He was my nurse all last week, and managed to wash my hair and bandage my ribs without once doing anything improper. I even fell asleep in his arms, and he didn't make any moves. I'm starting to feel unappreciated."

Maria's eyes danced with merriment, but she managed to keep a straight face. "Unbelievable. Why do you put up with him?"

"Three reasons," Rogue told her, counting them off on her fingers. "Gourmet cook. Rich. Nice butt."

Maria glanced at Will. "It is, isn't it?"

"If you two don't mind," Will said, "I'd like any discussions regarding my apparently superior posterior tabled until after I'm gone."

Rogue and Maria giggled, but kept quiet while Rogue went through the same tests that Will had. Maria put on a pair of rubber gloves, and gave Rogue an exam. Rogue decided to spare Will any further embarrassment, and put her bra back on after her X-ray, having been told by Maria that it wouldn't hinder her work.

"Your spine's in pretty good shape, Rogue," Maria announced. "I think you should be okay with a few simple exercises. There's really no reason for you to see me on a regular basis. You might want to come for an exam after anything really traumatic, though."

"Okay," she replied. "I didn't think anything was wrong, but it doesn't hurt to be sure."

"You can keep the X-ray," Maria said, handing it to her. "I'll keep Will's on file, since he'll be a patient, but I don't want to risk somebody else getting any information on the X-Men from me."

"Thanks," Rogue said, taking the print. "What about the negative?"

"I'll give that to Will at a later appointment, if you don't mind. I'd like to finish the roll of film."

"No problem."

Will set several appointments for the next few weeks, and they left. "Do you want to go anywhere else?" he asked Rogue.

"Not really. Let's just go home and relax."

"All right." Looking around, they decided that the street was too crowded to teleport or use a Door without being noticed, so they started walking back to the park. "Can I ask you something?" Will queried her after a few minutes.

"Shoot."

He pointed a finger and thumb at her. "Bang. Ever since we announced that we were a couple, I've been wondering something. When I act in a physical manner with other people - like I just did with Maria - are you okay with it? It doesn't make you uncomfortable, does it?"

"No, I'm fine with it," she promised him. "Don't worry, I'm not about to become jealous just because you act normally around other people."

"I just wanted to make sure. I don't want to do anything to hurt you, even unintentionally."

"I know. You've been doing great," she assured him. "I get more than enough of your attention."

"Even with your new rival?"

That stopped her in her tracks. "_Excuse_ me?"

He looked at her, confused. "You can't tell me that you didn't know about her. You're the one who introduced us."

Rogue's mind raced through the history of their relationship. She could think of only one woman, beyond the members of Excalibur, who she had introduced to Will. _Emma? Oh no, he wouldn't..._

"You remember her," he continued, "dark hair, green eyes, graceful, _very_ affectionate..."

Rogue couldn't remember any such person. She swallowed. "What's... what's her name?"

"Smoke."

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes narrowed to slits. "You..." she stammered, "You..." she finally burst out laughing. "You're impossible."

He grinned. "I just wanted to get a smile out of you." He glanced at his watch. "Now that I think about it, it's time to feed her. We'd better head back."

"I thought you wanted to go shopping."

"I did, but we took twice as long as I expected at that appointment."

"Good point."

"You can still go shopping if you want. I'll just see you later."

"That's okay. Let's head back." They reached the park a few minutes later, and Will teleported them back to the foyer of the mansion.

"Betsy was walking down the steps, and she waved as they appeared. "Hello, you two," she said with a smile.

"Hello, Betsy," Will replied cheerfully. "Have you seen Smoke wandering around?"

"She was sleeping on the living room couch about half an hour ago."

"She decided to move," Xavier said as he floated into the room. As he entered, they saw that Smoke was nestled in his lap, purring contentedly.

Will cringed. "Sorry about that."

"Oh, I don't mind," Xavier told him. "It's kind of fun, actually. I'm getting echoes of her dreams because of her proximity, and right now she's running across the living room, chasing something."

"What's she chasing?" Rogue asked.

He pointed at Betsy. "The sash of your costume."

Betsy thought for a moment. "I'll give her one of my spares for a toy."

"And I'll donate one of my headbands," Rogue added.

"By the way," Betsy told them, "you missed the fun earlier. Scott walked in about two hours ago, and started to sit back in the chair that she was sleeping in. Nobody had gotten around to telling him or Jean that we had a new resident, so when Smoke opens her eyes and sees Scott bearing down on her, she arches her back, raises her fur, and hisses. Scott nearly hit the ceiling, and you could hear his yell from the other side of the mansion. Somehow, I don't think that he and Smoke are going to get along very well."

"Lovely. Like I don't have enough problems," Will said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Do you know if anyone fed her yet?"

"I don't think so."

"We'd better take care of that now, then." Will gestured for Xavier to hand Smoke to him. He took her and gently cradled her in his arms. "Hey, Smoke," he said in a soft voice, "time to wake up."

Smoke opened her eyes and yawned, stretching. Will set her down on the floor, and she followed him into the kitchen, where he changed her food and water. "Betsy," he asked, "could you give me one of the plastic bags from the box under the sink?"

Betsy nodded, handing it to him. He emptied the remaining food from the previous day, and cleaned out the bowl. Sifting through the litter with the scoop, he added the waste to the bag, then opened a Door and dropped the bag into it. A minute later, he had rinsed out the food bowl, added some new food, and changed the water. "There you go, Smoke," he said as he placed the bowl in front of her. Smoke didn't need any further encouragement. She went straight for the food, eating ravenously. Will glanced at the empty can. "Let's keep in mind that whitefish and tuna is a hit."

"Right," Rogue said. "Anybody want some tea?" Everyone nodded, and she filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. Will pulled out his cocoa from the cabinet, then filled a Pyrex measuring cup with milk and placed it in the microwave to heat up.

They all sat at the table a few minutes later, nibbling on cookies and sipping at their drinks. "How did your appointment go?" Betsy asked Will.

"Pretty well. I've set up appointments for the next few weeks, and Maria thinks she'll be able to twist my spine back into shape."

Xavier nodded approvingly. "I have to admit, I haven't really been using much of what I learned while I was traveling in the Far East. With both Henry and Moria both acting within the bounds of Western medicine, I didn't think that my knowledge was required. However, Will, I think it could be very useful in your case."

"Meditation and diet seem better suited to you than injections and pills," Betsy agreed.

"No argument there," Will said. "Who has night watch, by the way?"

"Warren and Jean," Xavier informed him.

"I've been meaning to ask about that. I've noticed that couples are never placed on the same watch. Is there a specific reason why, or is it just policy?"

"It's something we came up with back when Jean and Scott first started getting serious. They spent so much time looking at one another that the Sentinels could have been tap-dancing on the roof and they wouldn't notice."

Will snorted. "Were they that bad?"

"Worse." Xavier chuckled. "I remember one day when I was testing Jean to see if she could sense my presence even when my shields were up. I was on my way from my office to one of the classrooms, so I could check up on Warren's progress on a project. As I passed by the study hall, I got a flash of... well, let's just call it 'Eros' and leave it at that. I made sure that I made a bit of noise just outside the door. I heard several seconds of shushing and clothes being straightened. I counted to ten, then opened the door. Jean and Scott were sitting several desks away from one another, with their noses buried in their books. I chose to ignore the fact that Scott was holding his textbook upside down, and Jean's hair had come loose from its ribbon. I _did_, however, try to avoid leaving them alone with each other for extended periods of time after that."

"For all the good it did," Rogue said sardonically.

"After a while, I realized that I was fighting the tide," Xavier admitted, "so I spoke with both of them separately and asked them to be a bit more discreet." He grinned. "Of course, it helped that I shifted their schedules so that they had the same free period."

"That would make things a bit easier," Will drawled. He was startled a moment later when Smoke jumped into his lap, then up onto the table.

"She's exploring," Rogue said with a smile.

Smoke touched her nose to most of the items on the table, then rubbed her head against Betsy's hand. She moved on to Rogue next, sniffing a lock of hair which dangled before her. She finally dropped down into Rogue's lap, letting out a purr of contentment, and curled into a drowsy ball. "I guess she likes me," Rogue said.

"I would never associate with a cat that didn't have excellent taste," Will told her. He glanced at his watch, then jumped. "Uh oh. I'd better get started on dinner. Any suggestions?"

"We haven't had seafood in a while," Betsy mused.

"I think there's still some shrimp in the freezer," Rogue offered.

"And I got sweet potatoes and onions when I went shopping. How does tempura sound? I'll make a huge pot of white rice and some dipping sauce."

"Logan will love it," Betsy predicted, "but Warren doesn't like shrimp."

"I'll make chicken teriyaki, too. That should be enough to satisfy everyone." He stood up and pulled the wok out of its place in the cabinet, then filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove to boil. He removed shrimp and chicken from the freezer, then defrosted them, placing the chicken in the microwave and immersing the shrimp in cold water. While they were warming up, he peeled two sweet potatoes and an onion, slicing both thinly. He quickly mixed up a batter of cake flour, water and egg yolks. After peeling the shrimp, but leaving the tails on, he poured some peanut oil into the wok and placed several cups of rice in the now boiling water. He dipped the vegetables and shrimp in the batter and fried them in the oil, placing them on paper towels to dry. He seared the chicken in the wok, added some fresh mushrooms and bean sprouts, and mixed it all together as it cooked. He finished just as the rice started to boil over. Will quickly grabbed a pair of pot holders and drained the rice. "Could someone please set the table with the Japanese dishes?" Logan had been given a service for sixteen by the Yashida clan several years ago.

Betsy and Rogue both nodded. "I'll put out Logan's _sake_ set, too," Rogue said. "He usually has some when we eat Japanese."

"I'll fill the rice and sauce bowls here and bring them in," Will said. "I'll just have water, please."

"Should we call everyone in yet?" Betsy asked.

"May as well. Dinner should be ready by the time everybody settles down."

Betsy sent out a psychic _dinner's ready!_ to the entire mansion, and soon afterwards the rest of the team was walking in and sitting down.

Logan sniffed the air. "Chicken and shrimp?"

"Tempura," Rogue informed him.

"I hope it meets with your approval, Logan," Will added as he walked in, carrying a tray which held the rice bowls and tempura sauce. He placed one of each bowl in front of everyone, then went back to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with the plates which held the tempura itself. He gave Warren his plate first. "I just left out the shrimp and gave you some extra chicken," he said.

"Thanks," Warren told him.

"I'll have your _sake_ ready in a minute, Logan. I'm afraid that I had to warm it in the microwave."

"That's okay," Logan replied. "I'm not that much of a purist when it comes to food."

Will nodded, brought out the _sake_, and sat down, picking up his chopsticks. He had been uncertain about placing only Japanese utensils on the table, but was assured by Xavier and Rogue that the X-Men had all been to Japan enough times to be familiar with their use.

"What's the orange stuff here?" Bobby asked, taking some of it from his plate.

"Sliced ginger," Will said. "Be careful, it's a little..."

"_Accck!_"

"...strong."

Bobby quickly downed his glass of water and gasped. "I have got to stop eating your stuff without taking a small taste first," he told Will.

"Prudence is always a wise course of action," Will replied solemnly.

* * *

Rogue yawned as she walked into the living room after finishing her meal. She flopped into one of the easy chairs and sighed, stretching, She wasn't really tired, but she did need some quiet time alone to rest.

"You okay?" Will asked as he sat across from her.

"I think so. I think I just need a night to myself. You didn't have anything planned, did you?"

"I had some tickets for a gallery opening, but I can skip it."

"No, go to it," she urged him. "Have fun." She thought for a moment. "What's the exhibit?"

"East African tribal art." He pulled the invitation out of the air and looked at it. "Wish I could make heads or tails of the artist's name."

"I can probably pronounce it," said Ororo, who had just walked in. Will handed the invitation to her. A moment later, she gave a gasp of delight. "Oh, how wonderful!"

"You've heard of the artist?" Will asked.

"Even better. I _know_ him. He's a member of my tribe. I haven't thought about him in years."

"It looks like you have a date, Will," Rogue told him with a smile.

"Can I have half an hour to change?" Ororo pleaded.

"Take your time," Will told her. "I have to get changed, too. And _you_ let me know if there's anything wrong," He said to Rogue as she got up out of her chair.

"I will," she promised. "I'm just going to read myself to sleep."

Forty-five minutes later, Will sat in the living room, dressed in his usual grey. Logan turned the corner from the kitchen, then glanced at the main stairs. "'Roro's comin' down," he said.

"Thanks," Will replied as he stood up, grabbing his hat and sword cane. He swiftly made his way to the stairs. "Are you ready?" he asked. Then he stopped and stared.

Ororo was dressed in a dashiki which had blue and black patterns superimposed on a white background. She had wrapped her hair in a black sash, and wore several bracelets on her wrists, including the pair which Will had given her upon returning from his European trip with Rogue.

"That's a new look for you," Will finally said.

"It's an old look, actually. This is how I dressed when I first came to the mansion."

"When you dressed at all," Logan teased her.

"Was someone a bit of an exhibitionist?" Will asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It took a while to get the concept of a bathing suit across," Logan explained.

"Ah. Are you ready to leave?" he asked Ororo, turning to her.

"Yes. Will we be teleporting?"

"Unless you prefer to drive. I assume that, given the way you're dressed, you don't want to fly."

"That's correct."

"Shall we go, then?" He opened a Door, and they walked through it, arriving in Soho a moment later. Will crooked his arm out for her. She smiled and took it, and they made their way to the gallery.


	34. Chapter 34

The patio door opened just after eleven-thirty. Ororo walked in, supporting Will, who was leaning on her shoulder. "_Medical!_" she yelled in her command voice.

"It's not that bad, Ororo," Will said.

"Oh, shut up," she ordered in an irritated tone. "Medical!"

Henry ran down the stairs and took Will from Ororo's grasp, leading him to a chair in the living room. "What happened?" he asked in the clinical tone he used when his friends became his patients.

"It's a _long_ story, Henry," Will told him.

"And I will be the one who tells it," Ororo said imperiously as the rest of the team gathered in the sitting room to determine the source of the commotion.

Rogue, who had been awakened from a sound sleep, took one look at Will and sighed. "What did you do _this_ time, Will?"

"Why does everybody always assume that it's my fault?" Will asked in a plaintive voice.

"He really didn't do anything, Rogue," Ororo admitted. "It was just the end to a very unusual night..."

* * *

Ororo and Will walked into the gallery, which was a riot of color and swirling fabric. Ororo cringed at the sight. "No one dresses like this in Nairobi."

"I see the same thing when I go to an Irish festival," Will told her. "People who've never been to the 'old country' have a tendency to romanticize things and ignore regional differences. Trust me, most of the people here have never been outside New York City."

They looked at the statues and masks that were on display. Ororo enjoyed explaining the significance of various items to Will. "Was this style a common one in your tribe?" he asked.

"There are some variations, but the basic theme is the same. Many of the people who I grew up with made figures that looked almost exactly like these."

A low commotion in another room caught their attention. "It sounds like the artist has arrived," Will observed. "Shall we meet him?" Ororo nodded in reply, and they joined the flow of people.

The room which they entered contained several other works placed on or near the walls, and two tables in the center, which most of the people were crowded around. Ororo adroitly made her way through the crowd and approached the table which did _not_ have refreshments. Will, who wasn't comfortable with entering the crush of people, chose to look at one of the exhibits.

Ororo had a demeanor which caused people to defer to her, even unconsciously, and the crowd slowly made way for her. She soon reached the table, where the artist sat autographing folios. "Hello, Chinua," she said.

The young man looked up, and his eyes widened in astonishment. "Ororo! Wind-Rider!" He jumped out of his chair and embraced her.

Ororo smiled and returned the hug. "You have come far from our little village, my old friend."

"Yes, thanks to you."

"To me?"

"I decided that if a goddess could leave the safe haven of home, then there had to be something out there that was worth seeking out."

"And was there?"

Chinua gestured to a petite woman who was discussing one of the pieces with some of the audience. "I have been married to it for three years."

"Where did you meet?"

"In Nairobi. I was working to earn enough money to come here, and she was the daughter of the owner of the business. He offered to pay for our move here if I agreed to handle his business affairs here in the U.S. It pays me a good salary, and I can work on my art on the weekends."

"Do you live here in New York?"

"No, down in Perth Amboy, actually. It's nice and quiet down there." Chinua looked around. "Did you come alone?"

"No, I was invited by a friend. Come, I will introduce you." They wove their way among the other guests until they found Will. "Will, I would like to introduce you to my old friend, Chinua Moloba. Chinua, this is Will Riley."

Will shook Chinua's hand firmly. "Pleased to meet you, sir. Congratulations on a successful night. Your work is very impressive."

"Thank you. I was worried that it would not be appealing to an American audience, but I have been getting very favorable reviews."

"From what I've seen here tonight, you deserve them." He gestured at the mask on the wall in front of him. "What's this one, by the way?"

"It is a spirit mask. Traditionally, they are used to bring a sense of balance and power to the possessor. Different masks influence different attributes."

Will nodded. "And what attribute does this one represent?"

"Dreams."

"How much time did you spend working on it?"

"A month, on and off."

"And how much are you asking?"

"Three hundred dollars."

"Ridiculous!" Will scoffed. Ororo's jaw dropped, shocked at his rudeness, but she didn't say anything.

Chinua looked flustered for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "I am sure that I can accept a lower offer."

"_Lower?_ Oh, you misunderstand me, Mister Moloba. I meant that you are asking far too _little_. Three hundred dollars for a month's work? Ten dollars per day? Totally unacceptable. Am I correct in guessing that the wood was shipped from Kenya?"

"Er, yes, it was," Chinua responded.

"So you paid shipping fees, which I would guess were quite high. Add to that the cost of paints and stains, and then the price for advertising for this show, and I would put the price at about..." He pulled out his checkbook and wrote for a few seconds. "This seems about right to me," he said as he tore out the check and handed it to Chinuba.

The young man took the check and looked at it. His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. "Sir... I-I don't..."

"Don't worry," Will promised him, "the check's good." He leaned in close. "Mister Moloba, I made that much before noon today. I'm not going to miss the money. But, once I start spreading word to this crowd about how much I paid, they're going to start a bidding war that will not only enhance your reputation in the art world, but will also give you a nest egg to draw from if there's ever an emergency... or a blessed event." He looked meaningfully at Chinuba's young wife.

Chinua blushed. "Would you like to take it home now?"

Will shook his head. "I have a better idea. Make a little tag that says 'Sold' and put it on the mask. I'm going to mingle for a while, and both Ororo and I are going to be raving about your work. Since most of the other people here wouldn't know a dream mask from a hockey mask, they're going to look on your works as investments, and snap them right up. Within a few months, you'll be the Next Big Thing, and you may be able to hire someone to assist you in the business. Just give me a little while to work the crowd." He shook Chinuba's hand again and continued to make his way among the exhibits.

Ororo promised Chinuba that they would talk again later that evening, then joined Will on his rounds through the gallery. "That was a very nice thing you did," she told him.

"I like to help my friends," he shrugged, "and the friends of my friends. Besides, it _is_ a nice mask, and he doesn't seen to have any idea of just how good his work is. I can spare the money."

"How much did you pay?"

"Three thousand."

"You paid ten times what he asked?"

"It was part of my strategy to enhance his reputation. By the way, was there anything here that _you_ liked?"

"I don't think I could justify spending the money," she admitted.

"I'll pay for it. I've been looking for a reason to spend some money, anyway."

"You don't strike me as a spendthrift."

"I'm not, but at my income level, I have to find ways to spend my money and keep my name circulating in the social register, and I'm not the type for yachts and sports cars. Art's a good alternative, and if I ever get bored with it, I can always donate it to a museum. So go ahead, pick something out."

"Well, if I _had_ to choose something, I think that I would like that wall hanging." She pointed to a woven tapestry which portrayed a gazelle drinking from a lake.

"It's yours. When was this showing scheduled to end?"

"Ten o'clock, I believe."

"Find out if Mister Moloba and his wife have plans for tonight. You can catch up on old times over coffee."

That would be wonderful."

* * *

Chinua and his wife, Nana, which she pronounced with a long 'a' in the first syllable, welcomed the opportunity to sit and rest after the showing, and joined Will and Ororo at a small café. They sipped their drinks as Chinuba and Ororo caught up on old times. Nana was very quiet, choosing to listen, as did Will. After about twenty minutes, Ororo realized that Will had been silent, and looked at him. "You have not said much."

"Why interrupt your fun?"

"Well, you _are_ paying," Chinua said, "and my wife and I owe you a great deal. We sold everything we had on display, and I now have four commissions. The gallery's owner even said that we may be scheduled for another showing in a few months. I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't have to. You've been working hard enough to deserve a few breaks. Besides, I'd rather support a couple who only want to make beautiful art than some egotistical twit just out of college who thinks that people should be willing to pay ten thousand dollars for a four foot tall bronze baby rattle."

"You do not approve of modern art?" Nana asked.

"It depends on the intention. If the artist is saying 'I made this because I thought it would awaken a response in the viewer,' or even 'I made this because I thought it would look nice,' then I can accept it. But if the artist is saying '_This_ is what my work means, and you're an ignorant lout if you can't see that, and by the way, that'll be six thousand bucks,' then I think they should look into job training."

Chinua nodded. "I know a few of the second type. They _are_ annoying, aren't they?" He looked around to make sure that there was no one else within earshot, then turned to Ororo. "So how is life as an X-Man?" he asked her casually.

"Quite fine, thank you..." Ororo said before her voice trailed off. She and Will exchanged astonished looks, then looked back at Chinua.

"You should not be so surprised, Wind-Rider," he said with a bland smile. "I did grow up with you, after all. It was hardly difficult to recognize you on television."

"You always were highly perceptive," Ororo admitted.

"This _is_ going to stay between the four of us, right?" Will asked nervously.

"Do not worry," Nana replied. "We have known for years, and this is the first time it has escaped our lips. We may have moved out of Kenya, but we are still our people's children. We remain loyal to our kin."

"We thank you for that," Will said.

Chinua looked at his watch. "We should be going. We still have to clean up. Ororo, I would like to invite you to our home for dinner one night. May I have your telephone number?"

"Of course." They exchanged numbers, and Ororo hugged both Chinua and Nana tightly, kissing them both on the cheek. Will shook Chinua's hand, but was visibly surprised when Nana embraced and kissed him as well.

As the couple left, Ororo noticed that Will's face was reddening. "Rogue is right," she observed. "You _do_ look cute when you blush."

Thanks," Will said dryly. "Do you want to head back yet?"

"Would you mind if we walked for a while? I still feel a bit too excited to settle down for the night."

"So do I. Do you have anywhere particular in mind?"

"Not really. We can just wander."

* * *

"Sounds harmless enough," Bobby commented.

"And it was, up to that point," Ororo confirmed. "It was after we started our walk that the trouble began..."

* * *

"So you _have_ been to Africa during your travels?"

To certain parts of it. Egypt, Mali, Morocco. I spent a very entertaining week in Casablanca."

"How entertaining?"

"Oh, intrigue, knives in the dark, men in black, that sort of thing."

"Busy week."

"I was a bit more driven back then."

"Yes, you are much more laid-back now," she said with a straight face.

"I'm glad you noticed."

Ororo laughed as they continued down the street. They eventually entered an area where some of the street lamps were broken. As they passed by the space between two buildings, they heard footsteps coming up behind them. "Keep walking," Will told her without moving his lips.

Before they had taken another ten steps, two men wearing sunglasses and sports jerseys stepped in front of them. They each held Beretta 92 F-M pistols in their hands. "Don't move, sister. You're too fine to blow away, but if you don't have some cash, you're screwed."

Will quickly stepped in front of Ororo, keeping her out of the line of fire. "All right," he said, "it's yours. I'm reaching for my wallet." He slowly moved his hand back towards his back pocket.

The man to their right fired at Will without warning. He didn't even change expression.

The shot hit Will in the abdomen, and he slowly crumpled to the ground, collapsing against the wall of the nearby building.

Ororo automatically went into a defensive posture, her awareness of the elements seeking out sufficient electrical potential from the air to create a lightning bolt. She slowly backed away from the assailants, who kept pace with her.

"Sorry, sister," the second man said, "but we can't have nobody talkin' to no cops."

"I don't know, man," the shooter said, "I think I wanna have some fun first."

"If you touch me," Ororo warned, "You will be in pain for a _very_ long time."

"Yeah, yeah," the one in the cap replied, "but not near as much as you."

They were all distracted by a low, scraping sound back in the alley, which was soon joined by a dry hiss. "He's still kickin'," the shooter said to his companion. "Finish him off."

"Right." The man in the cap turned around and walked back towards the alley. As he started to turn the corner, something flashed in the darkness, knocking his gun out of his hand. "What the..." He didn't finish the sentence before being knocked to the ground by a punch to the face.

His companion spun around, and nearly dropped his gun. Will was walking out of the alley, his sword in hand. His eyes were glowing brightly, and he seemed to be cloaked in the shadows of the alley. His shirt and jacket were covered in blood. His eyes met those of the remaining gunman, and his lips curled up into a diabolical smile.

He raised his sword into an attack position and looked at both of the men. He took a deep breath, and yelled five words to them in a deep bass voice which had shades of his echoing timbre.

"_There can be only one!_"

The two men screamed with one voice and ran like hell down the street, turning the corner a few seconds later.

Will waited a few seconds, then burst into laughter, leaning against the building to keep from collapsing. He slowly slid down into a sitting position, continuing to laugh. He looked up at Ororo, tears streaming down his face. He managed to choke out one sentence before collapsing back into a new wave of laughter.

"I've wanted to do that for years."

* * *

Bobby looked at Will after Ororo was done telling the story. "You _are_ crazy," he told him, shaking his head.

Will grinned. "I just couldn't resist."

"Well, it looks like you're all right," Henry said. "The bullet went straight through, and didn't hit anything vital. There's a small scar, but I think that will be gone by morning, given the way you heal."

"I told you that it wasn't that bad, Ororo," he said as he stood up with a grunt and made his way towards the stairs. "There wasn't any reason to get everybody up. I'm just going to wash off the blood and go to bed."

Will stayed under the shower for quite a long time, letting the heat penetrate his aching muscles, then toweled himself off and walked out of his bathroom.

"You feeling okay?" Rogue asked from the chair by his desk.

Will was too tired to even do a double take. "I'm fine. Just need a little sleep, that's all. You should be in bed yourself."

"I won't be able to sleep again for another hour or so, thanks to you."

"Waking everybody up wasn't my idea. Neither was getting shot, for that matter."

"Nice solution, though."

"Never let it be said that I don't have a sense of humor, warped though it may be." He combed his hair back and climbed into bed as Rogue politely looked away.

"I wanted to ask if you felt back up to full strength," she asked as she turned back around.

"I think so. I healed from that shot quickly enough, and I really don't feel that drained. I'm definitely ready to go back on duty."

"Me too. We'll have a team session in the Danger Room at nine."

"In that case, I'd better get to sleep."

"Okay. See you in the morning."

"It's twelve fifteen," he pointed out. "It _is_ the morning."

"Good night, Will," she said firmly as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Nine hours later, Will and Rogue joined Ororo, Bobby, Logan, Betsy, and Henry in the Danger Room. Xavier, Jean and Scott manned the controls. "_This'll be a combat scenario_," Jean said through the speaker. "_The objective is to defeat the attackers as quickly as possible_."

"And who are the attackers?" Henry asked.

"_It's a surprise_."

"Yippee," Bobby muttered.

"_Beginning in three... two... one_."

Six panels opened in various parts of the walls, and their opponents stepped out.

"Lovely," Henry groaned. "The Acolytes."

"Will," Ororo ordered, "you take Voght; Bobby, Unuscoine; Betsy, Milan; Henry, Javitz, Rogue, Frenzy. Logan, you and I have the Kleinstocks." Everyone nodded, moving into position.

Bobby had encountered Unuscoine on several occasions, and as a result had spent many solo hours in the Danger Room developing strategies to use against her. He quickly iced up and froze the moisture in the air around her, encasing her in a cocoon of ice. He kept her face exposed, but made sure that the rest of her head was immobilized, preventing her from seeing her teammates and possibly shouting warnings.

Logan and Ororo quickly teamed up against the Kleinstock brothers. Ororo threw them off balance with a gust of wind to their chests while Logan took the direct approach and kicked their legs out from underneath them. Once the fell to the ground, he gave them a sharp blow across their windpipes, stunning them.

Betsy found that the best way to deal with Milan was a combination of physical and mental attack. She kept up a steady psychic barrage to his shields, while delivering a series of blows to his vital areas which addled him. After about thirty seconds of such treatment, he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Henry and Rogue worked together to take down Frenzy and Javitz. Rogue kept her attention on Frenzy, since her invulnerability gave her a greater edge than Henry would have. They quickly brought the pair down.

Once everyone was certain that their targets were down for the count, they turned their attention to Will. He hadn't moved from his starting position, but had his gaze fixed on Voght, who was trying desperately to transmute away from him. He was not having an easy time of it, and his gasping from exertion.

"_Will, are you all right?_" Xavier asked.

"This isn't working, Xavier," Will choked in reply.

"_What's wrong?_"

"Just turn it off."

"_Shutting down_." The illusions vanished, and Will weakly slumped to the floor.

Rogue knelt next to him. "Are you all right?"

Will held up one hand, signaling her to wait. He looked up at Xavier. "What... what did you do to simulate Voght's transmutation process?"

"_We set up a compact spatial distortion field_."

"That's a neat trick," he mused. "The local pull must be strong enough to throw me off. It's distorting space-time," he clarified when he saw the confused expressions on everyone's faces. "It felt like I was swimming against a strong current. If you hadn't shut the program down, the spatial backwash would have done a number on my mind."

"You're okay now?" Jean asked.

He nodded. "Does the real Voght's power act anything like the simulation?"

"_No_," Xavier answered. "_She may be a case where you'll have to learn by experience_."

"Oh, no, not _another_ learning experience!" Will and Bobby whined simultaneously.

"We have _got_ to keep those two separated," Henry observed.

"Can we do this again?" Will asked as he stood up. "I'd like to try a different strategy."

"_Sure you're up to it?_" Scott inquired.

"I'm fine. Ororo, would you be insulted if I asked you to take my lead?"

"Go right ahead."

"All right then, everybody takes their cue from me. Stick with your original targets." Everybody nodded and got into position.

"_Restarting sequence_," Xavier announced.

The androids vanished, reappearing a few seconds later. Will immediately became a blur of motion, sweeping his arms back up above his head and snapping them back down. Voght was hurled against the wall a moment later, screaming in pain as she was pinned by the two daggers which skewered her. A heartbeat later, Will knocked her out with a glancing blow to the nerve cluster on her chin.

As the others, both X-Men and Acolytes, watched him in stupefied shock, Will dropped to the floor and glared at them. "_Take them down!_" he roared in a voice which commanded instant attention.

The X-Men stood stock still for a moment, then exploded into action, dispatching their opponents with the same efficiency that they had displayed in the earlier exercise.

"_End sequence_," Scott ordered angrily. "_What the hell did you think you were doing?_" he demanded of Will.

"I dealt with the primary threat as quickly as possible," he shrugged.

"Bobby's power allows him enough range and creativity to keep him out of Unuscoine's grip. The Kleinstocks, Frenzy, and Javitz all have limited range, so they aren't a threat as long as you maintain your distance and keep an eye on them. That leaves Milan and Voght. A telepath can take down Milan without extreme difficulty, as long as he's not near a computer.

"Voght is the primary threat, because her power leaves you vulnerable once you finish the transit, even if you only do it once, unlike the multiple teleports that _my_ power would require. My problems are compounded by the fact that because my psychic abilities disrupt our androids, and they don't have any connection to the Chorus, I can use any attacks that would be effective against a real person. That means that my attack _has_ to be physical, and it has to be severe enough to keep her out of commission.

"So I have two choices: do I 'kill' Voght, or 'hurt' her? Either way, I have to do it quickly enough to keep her from attacking me or anyone else. Pinning her not only did that, but it also immobilized her, so we don't have to worry about her dropping on one of us, or of tripping over her later in the battle. My attack sent her right into shock, but didn't cause any life-threatening injuries, so we can treat her after we have everyone else in custody. Since she _is_ in shock, she won't be able to focus enough to use her powers against us. Lastly, the sudden, unexpected nature of my attack distracted the other Acolytes long enough to give the rest of our team a tactical edge.

"In closing," he said as if giving a business presentation, "I feel that my actions were warranted, and gave the X-Men a strategic advantage over a force which had the potential to rival them." He paused. "Any other questions from the floor?"

Everyone looked at one another for a few seconds, then shook their heads. "I'm satisfied," Logan said. "What would you have done if this was the real deal?"

"Depends. If no lives were in immediate danger, I'd try to teleport Voght, like I did the first time, and see if it worked. If it did, I'd use rapid-fire transits until she passed out."

"_And if you couldn't?_" Xavier pressed.

"I wouldn't have changed a thing."

"_You could have killed her!_" Scott exclaimed.

"If I'd wanted her dead, she'd be dead," Will snapped back in reply. "I could have aimed for her heart or head, and my blades would have gone through her just as easily. I had the goal of immobilizing and neutralizing her, and that's _exactly_ what I did. Should we be deliberately handicapping ourselves, when we know the brutality that the Acolytes and some of our other opponents are capable of?"

"_We do **not** use methods like that!_"

"Well, you'd better start thinking about it. Either that, or be prepared to bury more of our own, because in case you haven't noticed, our opponents have been getting steadily more pathological over the years. We're not dealing with bank robbers anymore. Now we've got psychopaths who have unlimited bank accounts and weaponry that can take down Third World countries. Most of the time, they've racked up a body count before we've even heard of them. So I have no problem with dispensing a little pain when it comes time to deal with them."

"Eye for an eye?" Bobby asked.

"Stripe for stripe," Will confirmed.

"What if you're dealing with a person who's trying to make amends for what they've done?" Rogue asked. The question was an important one to her, given her history prior to joining the X-Men.

"I wait to see how sincere they were. I'd observe them, and see how they acted. If I decided that their change of heart was genuine, I'd set up a new identity for them, then relocate them and get them a real job. Once they were settled in, I'd make sure that they did something that would help people - disaster relief, environmental restoration, that sort of thing. I'd make sure that they would be low-profile and isolated enough not to bother or be bothered by others."

"_No prison?_" Jean asked.

"You can't pay off a debt to society if you're cut off from it, and the only thing that a prison does today is make a criminal a more efficient criminal. And if the person we're dealing with is so far gone that they have no desire to atone for their crimes - Sabretooth, say - then they're an animal that needs to be put down."

"Damn straight," Logan muttered. Will had just described a philosophy that closely mirrored his own.

"_I think that's enough discussion for now_," Xavier announced. "_Why don't you all hit the showers and relax until lunch?_"

As the team filed out of the Danger Room and headed towards the elevator, Xavier switched off the intercom and turned to Scott and Jean. "As much as I hate to admit it, his strategy probably was the best one available to him."

"He didn't do it out of malice," Jean agreed. "He was cold as ice."

"But it was complete overkill," Scott protested.

"No more so than clawing her, or electrocuting her with lightning, or clobbering her with an optic beam, or throwing a car at her..."

"Okay, okay, point taken. And I have to admit, he _is_ right about the opposition getting more unstable as time goes by. God help me, some days I wish for the days when we were fighting the Wizard and Factor Three."

"Ah, to be young again," Jean reminisced.

* * *

Warren had created a light lunch of soup and salad, which everyone quickly decimated. Bobby and Logan took security duty for the afternoon, and Bishop started his surveillance of the grounds. Bishop had taken some advice from Will, and now wore a casual shirt with a vest and jeans, rather than his usual uniform. Will had helped him design a vest that hid a shoulder holster, containing a pistol-sized version of his plasma rifle. Bishop's boots each held a knife, one of which was the Damascus that Will had given him, and a pouch on his belt held a taser, which was intended to give Bishop a source of energy to absorb.

Will had dish duty, so Rogue waited for him to finish cleaning up after himself, then joined him in the parlor. "You feeling okay?" she asked.

"Just a little frazzled. Nothing worth worrying about. How about you?"

"I feel fine. You want to do anything today?"

"I had enough entertainment last night. I think I'll just stay in. Did you have anything in mind?"

"Not really. Feel like renting some movies again?"

"That's a possibility. Maybe something new came..." He was interrupted by the ringing of the phone in the hallway. "I'll get that." He teleported to the hallway and picked up the phone before it had finished its second ring. "Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. How can I help you? Of course, she'll be on in one moment." He covered the mouthpiece with one hand. "It's for you, Rogue," he said, raising his voice slightly.

Rogue quickly flew from the parlor to the hallway, taking the phone from Will. "Hello? Hi, Momma! Oh, I'm doing fine. How did you hear about... oh, Val blabbed, huh? No, everybody's okay. Will got us out of there without much fuss... Will Riley, Momma. Yes, that's right, that _was_ him on the line before. Yeah, I'd say I know him pretty well, he's been my boyfriend for a while now... Hello? Momma? Hello?" She looked at the receiver for a moment, then placed it back on its cradle. "She hung up."

"That's odd. Any idea why?"

"Not a clue. Maybe she was running long distance charges on Val's home phone again. She'll call back later. Let's get those movies now, before things get crazy."

"All right." He opened a Door, and they walked through it.

* * *

Two hours later, Bishop had finished his second lap around the grounds, and was planning to come back inside so that he could watch the _Law & Order_ episode that he had taped earlier, when his communicator beeped. "Bishop here," he said, activating it.

"_We've got a bogey coming in fast, Bish_," Logan's voice said,_ "Heading for the southeast yard. It's broadcasting one of our recognition codes. Be there ten seconds ago to see who it is_."

"Right." Bishop broke into a run, taking the main road to the front entrance to the mansion, entering it and going out the back door.

The aircraft - a supersonic hovercraft from the looks of it - was landing just beyond the pool. Bishop waited for it to settle to earth, then drew his sidearm and aimed at it. "Exit the craft slowly, with your hands up!" he barked.

The windshield of the cockpit popped open with a pneumatic hiss and lifted up and back. A single figure stepped out and jumped to the ground.

Bishop sighed softly and slumped his shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Personal business," the newcomer snapped. "Let me inside."

Bishop pondered his choices. _We don't kill unarmed people_, he reminded himself.

_Still, it's so damned **tempting**..._

"All right," he decided. "Come on."

* * *

Will and Rogue walked in through the front door. "You were the last person I expected to be a Denis Leary fan," she told him.

"Well, let's see... Irish, cynical, smartass... what could there be for me to relate to?"

She laughed. "Let me get some snacks," she told him as she handed him the videotapes. "We can watch them in my room."

"I'll be right here."

Rogue entered the kitchen, where she found Bishop, Logan, and Xavier deep in a conversation. "Hi, guys!" she said brightly as she grabbed a two liter Pepsi and a bag of Tootsie Roll assorted miniatures.

The three men looked at her oddly. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Is there a note pinned on my back or something?"

"You didn't see her when you came in?" Logan asked.

"See who?"

Logan didn't say anything, but looked at Xavier and Bishop, then back at her. "Where's Will?"

"In the front hall, why?"

"We've got a visitor."

Will smiled and leaned against the door jamb, relaxing. _It looks like it's actually going to be a quiet afternoon_.

An arm shot out from behind him, placing a knife to his neck.

"You're gonna die, you manipulative bastard!"

_Then again..._


	35. Chapter 35

Rogue, Logan, and Bishop ran towards the sounds of breaking wood, glass, and other assorted household items. Rogue turned the corner into the ante room. "Momma," she said sternly, "you stop that this minute!"

Mystique ignored her, aiming a series of kicks at Will's midsection. Will dodged her easily, leaning back until he appeared to be doing the limbo. He didn't make any offensive moves, choosing instead to simply stay out of her range.

Will's passivity seemed to enrage Mystique further, and her attacks became more ferocious, aiming for his throat and groin. Finally, she leaped towards him, causing them both to tumble over the couch and land on the floor. She landed on top of him, straddling his chest, then pulled a thin-bladed dagger from her belt and held it to his throat.

Will seemed to take this turn of events calmly. "I wouldn't recommend it," he said in a conversational tone.

"Why the hell not?" Mystique growled.

"Look down."

Mystique shifted her gaze to her midsection. Will was holding a wicked-looking knife with a serrated edge about a centimeter away from her abdomen.

"I know _I'll_ heal," Will continued. "I'm not so sure about you."

Mystique gave him a long, steady look of malice, then withdrew her dagger.

Rogue took it from her, handing it to Bishop, then helped her up. "You know, most mothers just interview their kids' dates," she said jokingly.

"Why didn't you mention him before?" Mystique demanded.

Rogue gave her a pointed look. "And when was the last time I knew where to contact you?"

"Don't confuse the issue."

Will stood up, straightening his clothes. "Raven Darkholme, I presume. That _is_ your most recent alias, isn't it?"

Mystique's response was a venomous look. "What are you doing with my daughter?"

"Well, we were about to watch some movies..."

"That's not what I meant!" she snapped.

"Then maybe you should be a bit more specific."

Mystique's eyes narrowed for a moment. "What... are... your... intentions?"

"So _that's_ where you got that phrase," Will said to Rogue. Turning his attention back to Mystique, he paused a moment in thought. "Put as simply as possible, I intend to make sure that Rogue is as happy and comfortable as I can make her while we are together. Is that concise enough for you, or should I try to expand on it?"

Mystique was quiet for a moment, then she bent down, righting a chair that had been flipped over during their struggle. Settling gracefully into it, she fixed Will with a steady gaze. "Start expanding."

Will nodded. "May I sit down? We may be here a while." Mystique gestured towards one of the remaining chairs, and he sat in it as if it were a throne.

Rogue sat down on the couch, finding that two pairs of eyes were focused on her. "What do you think _you're_ doing?" Mystique asked.

"I _am_ the subject of this conversation," she declared.

"Subject, yes," Will said. "Participant or observer, no." Seeing Rogue's look of surprise, he explained. "This will be the conversation that would normally have taken place while I was waiting for you to get ready for our first date."

"It'll just be a little more in depth," Mystique agreed.

Rogue put her head in her hands. "I don't believe this." Looking back up at them, she gave them a pleading look. "No bloodshed, please."

"That shouldn't be a problem anymore," Mystique said. "We won't be too long. Shut the door behind you - and no listening from the other side."

_If she tells me to go to my room_, Rogue thought to herself as she stood up, _I'm going to scream_.

As she entered the hallway, she looked at Logan, Bishop, and Xavier, who were standing just beyond the door. "Anyone who says even one word dies," she warned them as she stalked off.

The three men looked at one another, bravely fighting the temptation to break out in laughter, and went to Xavier's office.

Once the door was closed, they gave in to temptation.

* * *

About half an hour later, Will and Mystique walked out of the ante room and into the hallway. "It's safe now," Will called out.

Rogue's face peeked out from the kitchen. "Well, at least everything's still attached. Are you two done cutting chunks out of one another?"

"We had a very civilized conversation, actually," Mystique said. "I learned a little about Will, and we were able to agree on some ground rules."

"Like what?"

"Pretty much that if you get hurt, I'll kill him - several times." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'd better get back before Val decides to send the whole Air Force after me." She took a piece of paper from the pad by the hallway phone and wrote on it for a few seconds. "Here's the drop box that I'm using now," she said as she handed it to Rogue. "_Try_ to write once in a while."

"I promise." They carefully hugged one another. "Take care of yourself, Momma."

"You too. And _you_ take care of my daughter," she told Will in a threatening tone. "If anything happens to her, I swear I'll hang your head on my wall."

"Given my powers," he mused, "you just might wind up with your own little Orpheus."

"Who?"

"Look up your Greek mythology when you get back."

"Right," she replied dubiously. She shook his hand and left.

"That went better than I expected," Rogue commented after the door closed.

"It was an interesting conversation. She has an impressive knowledge of Chinese torture procedures. We still have some movies to watch."

* * *

An hour later, they were both laughing at _The Ref_ when there was a knock on Rogue's bedroom door. "Come in," she called after pausing the movie.

Ororo opened the door and leaned in, holding Smoke in her arms. "She was sitting outside, meowing and pawing at the door."

"She must miss Daddy," Rogue commented.

"Probably more like she's keeping tabs on her pet," Will disagreed.

"You two certainly look comfortable," Ororo commented. Will was sitting up in the bed, with his back against the headboard, while Rogue was lying down, her head nestled in Will's lap.

"I'm not complaining," Rogue said with a smile.

Ororo lowered Smoke to the ground and closed the door behind her. The cat quickly jumped up onto the bed. After sniffing at both Rogue and Will for a few moments, she climbed up onto Rogue's chest and lay down on her stomach, looking directly into Rogue's eyes.

"I feel like I'm getting the third degree," Rogue complained.

"She does the same thing to me when I'm reading in bed," Will told her. "She'll fall asleep in a few minutes." Will's prediction proved accurate, and Smoke was soon curled into a ball, her purrs sending pleasant vibrations through Rogue's midsection.

"I could get used to this," Rogue decided.

"Do you have to worry about absorbing her?" Will asked curiously.

"No. I couldn't figure out why for a long time. The best explanation that the Professor and I could come up with is that there's a level of awareness or mental development below which my powers don't kick in. Otherwise, I'd be picking up stuff from the microbes in the air, or the animals that live on or in human skin. Most animals aren't intelligent enough for me to worry about."

"I never thought about that," Will admitted. "Of course, now that you've mentioned it, the idea that I've got little critters burrowing into me is giving me the creeps."

"Sorry." She started the movie again, then took Will's left hand in hers while gently caressing Smoke with her right.

Once the movie ended, Will stroked her ribs softly, tickling her slightly. "I have to get up so I can make dinner," he told her.

"Okay." She started to get up, then realized that Smoke was still asleep on her stomach. "This is going to be tricky."

"Just float up a foot or so," he suggested. "I'll slide out from underneath you." She did so, and he stood up a few seconds later. "Any suggestions for dinner?"

"What can you make with the veal that we got?"

He thought a moment. "I can do either veal Parmesana or veal Marsala."

"Which is easier for you?"

"Parmesana. All I have to do is pop open a can of sauce and boil water for pasta."

"Let's do that, then."

"See you in a little while, then. Want me to close the door behind me?"

"No, leave it open." After Will had left, she lowered herself back onto the bed and lay quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the sensation of feeling the rise and fall of Smoke's breathing. The cat soon woke up, lifting up her head.

"Good morning, furball," Rogue told the cat cheerfully.

Smoke blinked at her, then got on her feet and arched her back, yawning as she stretched.

Rogue wrinkled her nose. "I wonder if there's such a thing as breath mints for cats," she wondered aloud. Smoke replied by jumping down and leaving the room.

"You don't have to take it so personally." She stood up and went downstairs to the parlor, where Logan was watching a football game. "Exciting game?" she asked.

"Nah. It's been a massacre. I'm glad I didn't have anything riding on it." He sniffed the air. "You been with Will and the cat?"

"We just finished watching a movie. Smoke decided that I make a nice mattress."

Logan grinned. "That's 'cause she smells Will's scent on you. She figures that means you're a friend. And speaking of whom..."

Smoke ran into the parlor at breakneck speed, stopping just before she reached a wall, then turned around and ran right back. She slowed down as she neared Logan's easy chair, then leaped the four feet or so from the floor to the back of the chair, where she lazily sprawled herself.

Logan craned his neck to look at the cat. "Hyperactive little thing, ain't you?" Smoke ignored him.

"Count your blessings," Rogue advised him. "We finally have a pet around here that won't fly, shoot fire, or eat us out of house and home."

"Good point. Think Will needs any help with dinner?"

"We can ask."

Will was placing the chicken in the oven when they walked in. "Is there anything left that we can help with?" Rogue asked him.

"Just setting the table. Unless you think anybody will want wine with the meal."

"Not a bad idea," Logan decided. "What would you serve with this?"

"I think a white zinfandel would go well."

"I'll go get one." Logan walked towards the elevator as Will pulled out the shredder and shaved the cheese into a large pile. "Does tomato and onion sauce sound good?" he asked after looking in the cabinet.

"Sounds fine."

"Good." He poured most of the sauce into a bowl and placed it in the microwave to heat. He opened the second oven, and Rogue was assaulted by the overpowering odor of garlic and tomato. "What is _that_?" she asked as she blinked her eyes.

"Thyme foccacia and roasted garlic," he replied as he took a pastry brush, dipped it in a small bowl of olive oil, and basted the upper surface of the garlic heads, which had been divested of their top halves.

Logan walked back in just as Will closed the oven door. "That garlic smells _good_," he commented.

"I'm going to try to add more of it to our diets. Every little health benefit helps." He took the wine bottles from Logan and placed them in the freezer, then opened the oven that held the chicken and placed a few spoonfuls of sauce on each breast, topping them with the cheese.

Logan and Rogue quickly set the table, putting out wine glasses for the drinkers, jugs of water and milk for the others, and placing the seafood forks out for the garlic at Will's request. When they came back in, Will had placed the foccacia and the garlic on trays, and was stirring the angel hair pasta. "Everything should be ready in about three minutes. Why don't you call everybody in?"

"Right," Rogue said. She decided to be lazy about it, and just gave a general announcement over the intercom. By the time Will was pulling the pasta out of the water, everyone was filtering into the dining room. He poured the drained pasta into a large serving bowl, and brought everything out to the table in a few more trips.

"This smells delicious," Betsy said as she sat down.

"Thanks," Will told her. "I thought that since we had a light lunch, we deserved a big dinner."

"I'm not complaining," Bobby said as he took a piece of chicken from the tray. "How are we supposed to eat these?" he asked when the garlic was passed down to him.

"Usually, you spread the cloves onto bread, but I decided that since I made the foccacia, we could just have it as an appetizer by itself." He dug out a clove with his fork and popped it into his mouth.

Bobby followed Will's lead. "Not bad," he conceded.

"I'm glad you approve."

"As long as I'm not cooking it, I approve."

"So do we," Warren said under his breath.

The rest of the meal passed quietly. As they stood up, some to watch the news and others to do the dishes, the alarm siren called out. "Everyone downstairs," Ororo ordered.

"We'll go on ahead," Will said, Taking hold of Rogue and Henry, who sat on either side of him, and teleporting the three of them to the War Room.

Henry went straight to the World Tactical Display and called up the location of the alert. He paused in confusion. "Of all the places in the world for someone to attack, why would they pick Salt Lake City?"

"I could think of three possible reasons," Will offered, ticking them off on his fingers. "First, financial: there's a lot of money there. Second, political: it _is_ a future Olympic site. Last would be religious: it's the headquarters of the Latter-Day Saints. Or maybe somebody just got woken up on a Saturday morning one too many times."

"I don't think anybody's _that_ cranky when they get up," Rogue said.

"Bishop," Henry pointed out.

"Then again..."

"Do we have any information regarding their identity, Henry?" Ororo said from behind him as the elevator doors opened.

"Not yet. Betsy, would you please utilize Cerebro?"

"Of course, Hank." Betsy sat at the station which held the ominous-looking headpiece, placing it on her head. They were all silent for a few minutes as the technology extended her telepathic awareness, allowing her to 'see' the mutagenic signatures present in the surrounding area. She sighed and removed the helmet. "They're mutants, at least some of them, but they don't match anything in our files."

"Whoever they are, they've already smashed one building," Will declared. "We don't have time to take the Blackbird. I'll have to teleport us."

"No," Ororo said, vetoing him, "we may need the equipment on the Blackbird. Can you teleport it there with us in it?"

Will looked doubtful. "I'm not sure, Ororo. I think it'll be better if I open a Door, and we go through that."

"Can you make a Door that big?" Betsy asked.

He nodded. "I can't keep it open for long, though. We'll have to go through it quickly."

"What if you opened it just beyond the entrance to the hanger outside?" Warren suggested. "That way, we'll have the momentum that we'd get from going down the runway."

"That works," Will decided after thinking about it for a moment.

"We'll take Blackbird Blue," Ororo announced. "I want Logan, Rogue, Will, Betsy, Bobby, Jean, and Henry in the hanger in ten minutes." The named individuals all ran, flew, or teleported to the locker rooms to get into uniform. Will, whose uniform involved buttons, laces, and various layers of weaponry, took a bit longer to get changed than the others, but made up for it by teleporting to the hanger, rather than using the monorail. He was opening the primary entrance hatch by the time everyone stepped out of the transport tube, and seated himself in his usual spot, across from the Electronic Countermeasures Station, where he would jeopardize the fewest critical systems if his powers flared up.

Rogue took the pilot seat, with Jean acting as copilot. "Warming up engines," she announced. "Ready for takeoff in three minutes."

"How long will it take us to clear the runway?" Will asked.

"About seven seconds," Jean answered.

"Give me a ten-second countdown before takeoff."

"Right." She and Rogue went through the pre-flight checklist while the engines reached operating temperature. "Can you bring us out at twenty thousand feet, Will?"

"Consider it done. We'll be approaching the city from the west once we come out."

"Got it," Rogue said, preprogramming the flight computer for the area.

About one minute later, everything was ready. "Take off in ten..." Jean counted. "nine... eight..."

When Jean hit "one," Rogue went to full throttle. Everyone was pressed into their seats as they sped down the runway. Rogue, knowing what was coming, ignored the fact that pitch darkness greeted them just beyond the exit.

The instrumentation lit up automatically as they entered the Door. Bobby stared at the featureless void that existed outside the window. "Real party zone you've got here, Will."

Will ignored him, concentrating instead on finding the proper dimensional 'path' to get them to their destination. "We'll be coming out in five seconds," he declared. He proved to be true to his word. A rectangle of blue sky appeared in front of them two seconds later. Rogue aimed for it, and the Blackbird caused a small sonic boom as it suddenly appeared in the Utah sky moving at 1.2 Mach.

Will pitched forward slightly as he closed the Door. "You okay?" Bobby asked.

He nodded. "Just give me a few seconds," he said in a breathless voice.

"Salt Lake City dead ahead," Rogue announced. "Slowing down to subsonic."

"Cloak and sonic bafflers activated," Logan added from his seat behind Jean.

"I have a fix on the signal," Betsy said from the offensive systems station. "I'm feeding it to you, Rogue."

"Got it. ETA two minutes."

They reached the target area and placed the Blackbird in hover mode, at a height which placed them above the tallest of the buildings in the area, minimizing the risk that a passing helicopter would smash into the hidden plane.

Henry and Betsy linked the external cameras to their display screens, using the joystick interfaces to manipulate the view. "Found them," Henry announced. "It appears that you were correct, Will. They appear to be attacking the Olympic stadium."

"Can we get a close-up?" Ororo asked as she walked back towards Henry's station.

"Coming up now." The monitor showed five people, four men and one woman, all dressed in spandex bodysuits accented by suede vests, cowboy boots and Stetson hats.

"And people say _we_ look ridiculous," Ororo commented.

Will came back and glanced at the video image. "I'd guess that they're some sort of militia group that happens to have powers." He pointed at one of the men. "That's a military-style haircut he's got, and they all look like poster children for the Aryan Nation."

"No argument there," Betsy said. "Wait a minute." She zoomed in on the vests, which had a six-pointed star medallion surrounding a crest.

"'Army of the Holy Nation of New Israel,'" Will read with distaste. "Great. Just what we needed. Super-powered Millennialist separatists. Can I go back to bed now?"

"After we've dealt with this," Henry said firmly.

"Then let's get to work. What do we know about them?"

As Will finished speaking, the largest of the men on the screen picked up a nearby cement mixer and threw it at an incomplete stadium wall. The wall crumbled, sending bricks flying.

"Okay," Will said without blinking an eye, "put one down for enhanced strength."

"Another one is a flier," Betsy remarked," indicating the woman, who was surrounded by a nimbus of energy. They watched her draw what appeared to be an old Colt .45 revolver from a holster on her hip and point it at a nearby pile driver. A portion of her aura appeared to flow into the gun, emerging from the barrel as a concentrated beam which cut through the metal of the crane as if it were paper. The crane fell into the remainder of the wall, toppling it, and crushed several construction trailers as it hit the ground.

"I think that's enough of that," Ororo said in a firm voice. "Everyone prepare to drop."

Rogue activated the autopilot and automatic defense measures, then joined the rest of the team by the main hatch. "I'll carry you down," she told Will.

"I feel safer already," he replied with a smile.

"Jean, you take Logan and Henry," Ororo said. "I'll take Betsy and Bobby."

"No, I'll go myself," Bobby told her. "I'll try to concentrate on shoring up some of those walls."

"Good idea," Jean agreed as the hatch slid open.

"Drop on three," Ororo ordered. "One. Two. Three." Rogue and Will dropped first, free falling for the first few seconds so that Jean would have room for her telekinetic field.

Jean, Logan, and Henry left the Blackbird five seconds later. Jean adjusted the shape of her shield to slow their descent.

Ororo and Betsy glided out next. Ororo spiraled down to the ground, trying to get a good view of the ground.

Bobby took the rear, creating an ice slide which he fastened to the edge of the hatch. He jumped out, landing in the slide and adding to the leading edge as he slid down.

As Rogue slowed her descent, Will took in the surrounding area, trying to decide on a strategy. "Can you set me down by that stack of girders?" he asked her.

"No sweat." She let go of him when they were about four feet above the ground, landing right beside him, and they both crouched behind the girders. Will stuck his head around the corner of the pile and studied their opponents.

Activating his communicator, Will spoke into it in a low voice. "Archetype to Storm. Rogue and I are one hundred meters from target, bearing eight o'clock from the wall we viewed on recon. I can see the other three targets from here. Judging from the way the man closest to the crane's cab is vibrating, my guess is that he's a speedster. He'll be mine."

"I'll take the Mister Universe candidate," Rogue added.

"Buzz to reply if you copy," Will finished before releasing the call switch. A moment later, his communicator vibrated for two seconds.

"Betsy says she'll work on the clown with the lariat," Rogue told him, indicating a thin man who was wielding an insubstantial rope and lasso which glowed with energy. "Looks like a variation on her psychic knife, so she's the best match for him. Logan's backing her up. Henry's going to take my target from the other side, so we can tag team him if we have to. Jean's got the one with the gun, and Ororo's working on the guy who's making the mudholes." She indicated a slim man who was causing large areas of the building foundation to crack from underneath by forcing water through it.

"You'd better tell her to warn Bobby about that one," he suggested. "If he freezes too much of the water, he'll just compound the damage."

"Good point." Rogue concentrated for a moment. "He says that he can make the ice flow to the surface as it freezes. It'll all come out of the cracks, and he can move it to someplace else later."

"Good. When's the signal?"

"Coming now," she told him, as she listened for Jean's psychic cue. "Three... two... one."

As she leaped into the air to begin her approach towards her target, Will switched to enhanced speed, running towards the man near the cab of the crane. As he wove his way through the wreckage, then dashed the final few yards to his target, he noticed that the man was facing away from him, and felt an uncharacteristic burst of hope that things were going to work out.

As Will prepared to kick the ersatz cowboy's legs out from underneath him, he found that a pair of icy blue eyes was staring straight into his. A moment later, as he saw a fist heading towards his face, one thought ran through his head:

_I have **got** to do something about this optimistic streak that I'm developing._

* * *

Rogue cut through the air as she sped towards her opponent. Focusing her vision a little beyond her target point, she saw Henry moving in to join her. Henry pointed to himself, then down. Rogue nodded, adjusting her trajectory to that she would hit her target in the chest as Henry swept him from behind the knees.

The tactic worked perfectly. The young man, who stood at six foot eleven and had a build which seemed equivalent to a combination of three or four Notre Dame linebackers, simply did not have the dexterity to stay upright once Rogue slammed into him, and he toppled over like a tree. Henry nimbly leaped out of the way before the giant hit the ground.

Rogue could tell from the amount of resistance that her punch met that she was dealing with someone who had at least a small amount of invulnerability. She wasn't surprised by that, since most superhumans, with enhanced strength, mutant or otherwise, had to have a bit of extra resilience to deal with the added strain that lifting extreme weight caused muscle tissue. There were, however, exceptions to the rule, so she had pulled her punch to be on the safe side.

The blonde rolled onto his knees and stood up, glaring at Rogue. "Get out of here!" he barked with an accent which marked him as a local resident. "God has charged us with a task! The unbelievers must not enter the Holy City!"

"You have got to learn to _relax_, handsome," Rogue told him in a soothing voice as she hovered in front of him. "A good-looking guy like you should be at Bringham Young breaking hearts and football records, not playing wrecking ball."

The young man responded by picking up a large chunk of rubble and hurling it at Rogue. She dodged it, then grabbed it from behind as it soared past her, slowing it down and gently lowering it to the ground. "If that's the way you want it," she shrugged. "I think it's time somebody taught you a few lessons in tolerance."

* * *

Bobby and Ororo were making quite a bit of headway with their assignment. The man with the hydrokinetic ability was actually making things easier for Bobby by bringing more moisture into the air. Bobby searched through the water seeping up through the ground, sending small slivers of ice into the cracks in the soil to gauge the depth of the water. Once he found the location of the well, he started slowly freezing small parts of it and bringing it back up through the cracks. By doing so, he was able to slowly drain the well and take away his adversary's source of ammunition. Once the well was empty, Bobby shaped the ice into a massive wall which he set against the weaker parts of the stadium to serve as a buttress.

With the primary task out of the way, Ororo was able to concentrate on besting the young man, who was now limited to using the moisture in the air. He was unable to mount an effective defense against her, and was quickly stunned by a mild electrical shock.

Logan pounced into the field of view of the man with the lariat, trying to draw his fire and distract him long enough for Betsy to get close enough to strike. As he dodged the first throw of the lasso, he was startled to find that it followed him around, moving along with the gaze of the cowboy.

_I definitely do **not** want that thing touching me_, Logan thought to himself as the glowing loop drew near. He extended his claws and swiped at it, slashing through the tendril of energy for a moment. The cowboy winced as his psychic construct was ripped apart, but quickly rebuilt it.

Logan repeated his tactic a few times, allowing Betsy to silently approach their foe from the rear. She plunged her psychic knife into the head of the would-be rustler, who gasped and stiffened at the assault. The lasso shimmered and trembled for a few seconds, then dissipated as he dropped to the ground.

"He okay?" Logan asked.

"He'll need half a bottle of Advil when he wakes up, but he's not hurt," Betsy informed him in a satisfied voice. "He was a bloody amateur. He didn't have any shields at all."

"You're complaining?"

"No," she admitted, "but part of me would like to meet someone who's a challenge without being totally unbeatable."

"We can always see if the Shadow King's still hanging around someplace."

"Forget I said anything."

* * *

Jean found that her opponent, who her psychic probes identified by the first name of Sandy, would be a greater challenge than she had anticipated. While the younger woman was, as far as she could tell, purely a telekinetic, she had a natural mindshield which would be difficult to overcome without risking permanent damage to the novice's mind. Jean erred on the side of caution, making several tentative strikes that tested the limits of Sandy's defenses.

"Nothing good is going to happen because of this, Sandy," Jean said in a reasonable tone. "You aren't helping anyone this way."

"We just want to keep our city for ourselves," the girl pleaded. "We don't want thousands of strangers invading the center of our faith."

"They won't be invading," Jean reassured her. "They'll just want to enjoy the Games. They'll all go home when it's over."

"They'll never come here," Sandy snapped coldly. "We'll make sure that they don't have a reason to." Grimacing in concentration, she redoubled her attack. Jean sighed and thickened her shield, as the ionization of the air caused sparks to flare between them.

* * *

Will managed to dodge the speedster's first punch. As he ducked, he kicked the younger man's feet out from underneath him, dropping him onto his back.

Jumping to his feet, the tanned, dark-haired man drew a Bowie knife from a sheath at his waist.

"Nice knife," Will told him as he flicked his wrist, activating the trigger in his sheath. An instant later, his paratrooper dagger flew into his hand. "I've got one, too. Now, would you like to surrender before somebody starts bleeding?" He jumped back as the younger man made a wide sweep with his blade, one obviously intended to disembowel him.

"Well," Will shrugged, "I made my gesture towards sportsmanship. Now I can proceed to kick your butt from here to Provo."

Will quickly found himself fighting a defensive battle. He was trying to avoid causing any critical damage, and was reduced to making small cuts which stung, but did not hobble, his opponent. The clinks that their knives made as they thrust and parried increased in tempo, becoming a staccato chime which would end only when one blade met flesh.

* * *

Rogue and Henry were both frustrated by their lack of progress against the massive youth. He staggered against their blows, but still managed to cause a great deal of damage to the surrounding area. His eyes were becoming wild, set within the face of a fanatic. _His adrenaline levels are probably so high_, Henry thought to himself, _that he isn't even feeling anything. He'll keep fighting until we knock him out_.

Leaping away with a back flip, Henry gestured for Rogue to step back as well. They both gave themselves about ten feet of distance from their opponent. Looking at Rogue, Henry quickly knelt down and patted the ground with his right hand. He pointed at Rogue, then up, then down. He then patted the ground a second time and pointed up again.

Rogue nodded imperceptibly, then leaped straight up, launching herself a good three hundred feet into the air.

Their target, who was now free to focus his attention on Henry, stood up to his full height and puffed out his chest. Knitting his fingers together, he raised his hands above his head and prepared to bring them down on the X-Man.

A sudden blur of yellow and green crashed into the patch of ground where Rogue had been standing, sending a plume of dirt into the air.

The larger man glanced at the hole, then looked back at Henry, a sneer playing across his face. "You guys could be a lot better if you could hit what you aimed for."

A moment later, he was yelling in shock as the ground below him exploded, sending him head over heels into the air. Rogue sailed past him, seizing the fabric of his costume and hurling him to the ground. The shock of his impact stunned him and caused shock waves to echo against the remaining structures.

"It all depends on what we're aiming for," Rogue said as she dusted herself off.

* * *

The struggle between Jean and Sandy had reached the point where the two women were spinning around one another, with Sandy pushing herself to the limits of her power and Jean constantly changing the shape of her shields to diffuse the energy of the attacks.

Sandy stopped herself, looking over Jean's shoulder to where henry and Rogue had just defeated their target. Her eyes narrowed, then blazed in anger. "_Jack!_" she yelled in a panicked voice.

Before Jean could adjust her shields to surround her, Sandy's aura intensified, channeling itself down her arms, into her hands, and from there into her gun.

"You bitch..." she muttered as she pointed it towards Rogue.

"Sandy!" Jean cried. "No!"

* * *

The beam was not fast enough to escape Will's notice, at least not while he was operating at enhanced speed. Unfortunately, he was too absorbed with parrying the attacks against himself to open a Door which would deflect the shot.

* * *

Rogue had learned, days after joining the X-Men, that her invulnerability had its limits. It had been quite some time, however, since she had last encountered anything which was capable of inflicting more than a heavy bruise on her.

Sandy's gun focused and intensified the energy of her telekinetic attacks, compressing the full power of her aura into a beam half a centimeter wide, giving it a punch which just exceeded Scott's optic blast at its narrowest setting, and a temperature which could melt steel.

Rogue was facing away from Jean and Sandy, and thus was unable to see the beam. Henry and the other X-Men saw it, but simply did not have the time to warn her or knock her out of the way.

Entering Rogue's body from the back, the beam pierced her left shoulder blade, puncturing her lung and exiting through her breast. She cried out in pain and shock, slowly dropping to the ground.

* * *

Will froze in his tracks, giving his attacker the opportunity to drive his knife into Will's chest. Will didn't even move, his mind focused only on Rogue. Her fall appeared, to his enhanced vision, to take place in slow motion. He saw the pain on her face as she hit the ground.

"_ROGUE!"_

The force of that voice brought everyone to a standstill. The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment.

Will turned his attention back to his enemies. His face twisted into an expression of fury.

A moment later, his vision vanished in a haze of grey.


	36. Chapter 36

The sliding doors which separated the medical wing from the rest of the underground complex slid open, admitting a frenzy of noise and activity.

"Computer!" Logan barked. "Medical alert!" A klaxon sounded and the voice of the computer informed the rest of the mansion of the situation.

Henry and Logan wheeled Rogue in on a gurney. Ororo held a compress against Rogue's shoulder. "Betsy," Henry ordered, "three units of O-negative, one of plasma. Bobby - dampening collar! On three, Logan. One, two, three!" He and Logan lifted Rogue off the gurney and onto the examining table.

"Collar!" Bobby said, latching it around Rogue's neck and activating it. Henry didn't answer, as he was concentrating on removing Rogue's left-hand glove and cutting the sleeve of her uniform off with a pair of surgical scissors.

"Whole blood," Betsy said as she hung the first bag on the hook and handed the needle to Henry.

"Point five mils?"

"Right."

Henry nodded as he slid the needle into the proper vein and taped it into place. "Anesthesia?"

"Coming!" Bobby said as he fitted the mask onto the end of the line. "Flowing now," he continued as he placed the mask over Rogue's mouth and nose, then opened the valve. The dry hiss of the gas could be heard a moment later.

Jean, who had been keeping Rogue free from pain telepathically, slowly disengaged her link as she felt the anesthesia taking effect. "She's out, Hank."

"Good. You and Ororo will assist. Betsy, you take over for Bobby. Everybody else out."

Logan and Bobby nodded and headed back towards the main complex. As they stepped out into the main hallway, they heard someone wheezing just beyond the monorail station. They got there just in time to see Will stepping out of the service tunnel for the monorail tube. His face was red, and he was gasping for air, but he stumbled up the stairway and started making his way towards the medlab.

Logan and Bobby each grabbed one of Will's arms, restraining him. "Whoa, bub," Logan told him. "You can't go in there." Will ignored him and attempted to break free of their grip, but he was both too winded and too upset to focus properly.

"Will!" Bobby yelled. "Will, look at me!" After the frantic man hesitantly met his gaze, Bobby continued in a patient tone, as if talking to a child:

"We know you want to help her. But the best thing you can do right now is to let Henry do his job. He's got the best medical technology on the planet, but if you go in there, you'll short it all out. You can help Rogue more by staying out here."

Will slowly, reluctantly, relaxed, slumping in their arms. "Come on," Bobby said in a reassuring voice as he led Will towards the elevator, "we should head upstairs. Hank will call us and let us know what's going on."

They exited the elevator at the first floor of the mansion and led Will towards the kitchen, seating him in a chair. Bobby glanced at Logan and made a gesture that mimed drinking from a bottle, then mouthed the word "schnapps." Logan nodded and quietly made his way towards the liquor cabinet in the dining room.

"You have to calm down, Will," Bobby continued as he started making Will some cocoa, using a huge cup that Betsy had brought home from a coffee shop one day. Placing two cups of milk in a measuring cup, he heated it in the microwave and mixed in six tablespoons of Will's cocoa mix.

Will wasn't paying attention to Bobby or Logan, so he didn't notice when they poured a generous portion of schnapps into the cocoa, blending it in thoroughly. He took the cup when Bobby handed it to him and drank down a good quarter of the contents without tasting them.

"I'll talk to Chuck and Cyke," Logan told Bobby in a low tone. "You keep an eye on him." Bobby nodded, and Logan headed towards Xavier's office.

"What happened?" Xavier asked as soon as Logan had entered.

"Rogue's hurt. Henry's takin' care of her now. It was pretty serious, but I think she'll be okay. Just bumps and scrapes for the rest of us... except Will."

"What about him?"

"He took a knife to the chest."

Xavier winced. "Has he healed from that yet?"

"I don't think it's his body we should be worryin' about, Chuck."

"What do you mean?"

Logan sighed and sat down. "I'd better explain what happened..."

* * *

_"ROGUE!"_

Logan and Betsy, who had been checking on the condition of their unconscious opponent, spun around after hearing Will's voice. Logan saw the smoking wound in Rogue's shoulder and cursed as he started running towards her. Betsy started to focus her telepathy for an attack on the shooter, to prevent her from harming anyone else.

Before she had taken three steps, she stopped, feeling something at the edge of her awareness. It felt like the sensation one gets when one's hair stands up just before a lightning bolt strikes. Turning her head, she saw Will bearing down on his opponent. His eyes were blazing, and as they focused on the younger man, Betsy could feel Will gathering in his power.

**_Everybody hit the deck!_** she shouted telepathically to the other X-Men, as she did so herself.

The wave of nausea which hit them was far stronger than what Henry and Ororo had felt in the Danger Room. This time, they could actually see the distortion in the air which spread out from Will in all directions, shorting out all the electronics it contacted.

Will drew his right arm back and hit the other man across the jaw. Betsy and Logan both winced at the sound of bone breaking. Before the psi had even hit the ground, Will was moving again, speeding towards Jean and Sandy.

Sandy simply did not have time to finish reconfiguring her shield before Will reached her. She was able to set up a barrier, but did not brace herself against the impact. She was thrown a good forty feet, slamming against a foundation wall. Her shield prevented her from sustaining any serious injury, but it dissipated as soon as she hit the ground. Will was on her a within a heartbeat, boxing her across the ears and scrambling her inner balance. She fainted a few moments later.

* * *

"The whole thing couldn't have taken more than a few seconds, Chuck. The next thing we knew, Will was pickin' Rogue up and teleportin' us onto the Blackbird. He made Betsy lower the landing gear and cut the engines, and we were in the hanger half a second later. He'd teleported to the emergency equipment and ran back with a gurney by the time we had opened the door. While we loaded her onto the gurney, he unlatched three of the seats from the monorail to give us room. You don't want to know how far he threw 'em. He wouldn't get on with us... he was afraid he'd fry the motor. He took the maintenance tunnel, runnin' the whole way." Logan paused for a moment. "Oh, hell."

"What?" Xavier asked.

"He's still got that knife in his chest."

* * *

Will sat alone in the kitchen, head downcast, holding his cup in his quaking hands. Bobby had left a few minutes earlier to change back into civilian clothes, but had said that he would be right back. Will had only nodded when asked to promise that he wouldn't move.

The patio door slammed open, and Scott ran into the kitchen. "Who called the medical emergency?"

Will was still in shock, and could only verbalize the thoughts that were spinning through his dazed mind. "Rogue's hurt... she's hurt..."

"What happened?" Scott demanded. When he didn't get an immediate answer, he pushed Will back in his chair so that he could see his face, only to cringe and step back when he saw the knife which was sticking out from between two of his ribs.

Scott found himself becoming angry that Will was sitting in the kitchen while so gravely wounded. Strangely enough, the anger didn't stem from any medical concern as much as Scott's sense of order and discipline. How dare Will sit there bleeding in the kitchen with an untreated wound? He should be down in medlab, where injured people belonged. He said the only thing that made sense at the moment:

"Pull that thing out this instant!"

Will was, at that point, basically running on automatic, so he simply did what he was told. Looking down at the knife, he took hold of it with one hand and removed it from his chest. He let it slip from his hand, and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Now," Scott repeated, "what happened?"

"Rogue's hurt," Will said again. "Wasn't fast enough... my fault..."

It should be noted that Scott wasn't at his best. He hadn't eaten well, and an upset stomach always made him a bit grouchy. He was also still angry at Will for his actions in the Danger Room earlier that day. He therefore saw Will's words in the worst possible light.

"Rogue was injured because of _you?_ _Again?_"

Scott seized the lapels of Will's coat and hauled him to his feet, slamming him against the wall. "Tell me, Mister Riley... did you come here planning to put us all in the hospital, or are you just so fond of getting yourself hurt that you decided to share the experience?

"Well, congratulations, you're doing a great job. You've done nothing but cause us pain ever since you got here. You keep this up, and soon you'll have Rogue in the grave."

He let go, and Will's legs gave out from underneath him. He landed in a sitting position, still leaning against the wall.

"Now if you'll excuse me," Scott said in his most cutting tone, "I have to go help fix the damage that you caused." He left the room and headed for the elevator.

Will sat on the floor for several seconds, trembling and shaking his head. Suddenly, with the swiftness one sees in a cornered animal, he scrambled to his feet, then ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He fled to his room, slamming the door behind him. A despairing moan was all that could be heard from within.

* * *

"All right," Henry said wearily, "that takes care of the lung. Let's move her to the dermal cloner."

Jean nodded and gently lifted Rogue in a telekinetic embrace, slowly bringing her over to the Shiar machine, which resembled a CAT scanner which had been designed by an Italian sports car maker. They placed her in the bed, then programmed the computer to focus on her injured shoulder and chest. Within seconds, a warm light pulsed over the damaged area.

"Regeneration at 3000 percent over normal," Betsy said after reading the monitor's display. "No malignancy reported."

"I'm always amazed that this thing doesn't give us all cancer," Jean remarked.

"I asked the Shiar doctor who trained me in its use about that," Henry said. "The device makes a comprehensive scan of several healthy cells near the location of the injury, then determines a baseline model and several variations based on the rules of standard deviations. In the end, there is just enough of a mix of cells to mimic the normal mitosis process."

"How long will it take her to heal completely?" Ororo asked.

"Hard to say. The wound itself should close in three to four hours, but full recovery will take one to two weeks. We have to add in rehabilitative therapy and time for her to regain muscle mass, so I'd say three to four weeks total."

"We might want to send her to Muir or some other location for the therapy," Betsy suggested. "Rogue's never really been a cooperative patient."

"She didn't have any problems when Will was keeping an eye on her," Jean pointed out.

"After what happened, why would you _want_ Will keeping an eye on her?"

Everyone turned at the sound of Scott's voice:

"What are you talking about?" Jean asked.

"Rogue was hurt because of Will. He said so himself." Scott was so satisfied at having been proved correct in his reservations about Will that he didn't notice the looks that the others gave him.

"Scott," Jean asked in a level tone, "exactly _what_ did you say to him?"

"That his risk-taking behavior has reached the point where other people are getting hurt because of it. That Rogue..."

"If Rogue's injury is anyone's fault, it's mine," Jean snapped. "I was up against an energy manipulator who was nearly a match for you. I misjudged what she was going to do, and I wasn't able to adjust my shields quickly enough to stop her. Will had absolutely _nothing_ to do with it."

"And even if he had," Ororo said angrily, "you had no right to confront him about it. Firstly, he is under _my_ authority, not yours. Secondly, you were not there, and had no information about what had happened, so you had no basis or evidence to make a judgment." She turned to Henry. "Is Rogue out of danger yet?"

"The worst is over. I'd still prefer it if someone kept her under observation, though."

"I'll do it," Betsy volunteered. "If there's a problem, I'll give a telepathic yell."

"All right. Wait one moment." Henry went to the dispensary and removed a small bottle. Filling a syringe with four cc's of the contents, he injected them into the I.V. bag. "A strong sedative," he explained. "It should keep her under for six hours or so."

"Let's go," Jean said to Scott as she pointed imperiously towards the door. Henry and Ororo followed right behind them.

They took the elevator to the ground floor and went straight to the kitchen, where they were momentarily confused by the fact that no one else was there. "Where'd he go?" Jean asked.

"I don't know," Scott told her. "He was here when I left."

"He went to his room," Bobby said as he came down the stairs dressed in his usual T-shirt and jeans. "After everything that happened, I think he needed a few minutes alone."

"Could you please get him, Bobby?" Ororo asked. "We have to tell him that there's been a mistake." She glared meaningfully at Scott. "Ask him to join us in Charles' office. You may want to come too."

"No sweat," Bobby replied. "We'll be right down." He started back up the stairs.

Ororo knocked on the door to Xavier's office. "Come in, Ororo," they heard Xavier say.

"Charles, we have a serious problem to deal with," Ororo said as she opened the door.

"Is Rogue all right?" Logan asked.

"She'll be off-duty for at least a month," Henry told him, "but she should make a full recovery. That's a secondary issue, however."

"What's the main difficulty, then?" Xavier asked

"There has been a serious abuse of power," Ororo declared, "and one of my people is suffering because of it."

"What happened?"

"There is no charitable way to say this, so I will be blunt: Scott tried and convicted Will of being responsible for Rogue's injury."

"_What?_" Logan yelled, jumping out of his chair.

Xavier was just as shocked as Logan. "Have you lost your mind, Scott? Will is already in a delicate mental state, and you've convinced him that he's to blame for injuring her?"

"_Professor!_"

Xavier turned his head to look at Bobby, who had just come running down the hall. "What's wrong, Robert?"

Bobby took a moment to catch his breath. "Will's gone."

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Ororo demanded.

"I mean he must have teleported somewhere. I knocked on his door, and when nobody answered, I opened the door. He wasn't in there, and the computer said that he's not on the grounds. This was on his bed." He handed Ororo an envelope.

"'To: Professor Charles Xavier, Ororo Munroe, and all Gold X-Men Team members,'" she read from the front of the envelope. Opening it, she unfolded the letter which was inside it and read it silently for a few seconds. "Oh, no," she whispered.

"Ororo," Bobby said impatiently, "what does it say?"

"'The tragic events of the most recent mission attended by myself, and the degree of culpability which I share in those events, have led me to the conclusion that my presence among the X-Men is an unacceptable risk. I have no desire to cause harm to anyone on either team, so I therefore tender my immediate resignation. I will send for my material possessions when I come to a decision regarding a new location. I ask only that you find a good home for Smoke.

"'I wish to express my gratitude for the kindness and understanding which was shown to me during my tenure with the X-Men. I will cherish the memories of my stay among you as some of the most significant of my life. My only regret is that my presence proved to be so damaging to the rest of you. For that, I can only offer my most heartfelt apologies, and offer all of you the best wishes for the future.

"'Yours truly, Mister Will Riley.'"

The room was silent for a moment. Feeling something else in the envelope, Ororo turned it upside down and shook it lightly. Two small objects fell into her hand. Ororo didn't say anything, but placed the objects on Xavier's desk.

"I don't understand," Bobby said softly.

"It's a military tradition," Logan told him. "When an officer resigns his commission, he hands over his rank insignia."

The two black 'X' pins lay on the blotter, gleaming dully in the lamplight.

* * *

Two hours later, in the dark of the night, the mansion was full of activity. Jean, Xavier, Ororo, and Logan were in the War Room, arguing over the best strategy for finding Will. Bobby was helping Betsy and Henry keep watch on Rogue, and Bishop and Warren were doing the returning maintenance on the Blackbird. Scott's offers to help had been coldly rebuffed by all three groups, and Jean had informed him privately that the next few nights would be very lonely for him.

"This isn't working," Xavier said disgustedly as he removed the Cerebro helmet and floated away from the station.

"Did you really expect it to?" Ororo asked. "Will's not a mutant, after all."

"No," he admitted, "but I was hoping that I could get a whisper of the babble that his mind gives off. And I doubt that he's using his powers, so there won't be any technological disruptions that we can track."

"Maybe not," Jean mused, "but we _can_ track other things."

"You got an idea, Jeannie?" Logan asked.

"Well, I doubt that he took much cash with him. Why don't we check his room for his credit card receipts? We'll crack the computer systems of the banks, and watch to see if he uses the cards anywhere. He has to stop to eat or sleep at some point."

"It's worth a try," Logan said dubiously. "I'll go take a look." Five minutes later, he returned to the War Room with a large stack of papers. "This was everythin' on his desk."

They leafed through the sheets, placing the bank statements and credit card bills aside. "Okay," Jean said when they were done, "we have five cards to work with. Let's start cracking some systems."

Bank security was no match for Shiar technology, and they quickly accessed the credit databases. "Nothing here," Jean said.

"Same for me," Logan added.

"All right," Xavier told them, "insert Kitty's flag program. At least we'll be alerted if he _does_ use them."

"We may not have that kind of time, Chuck. Will wasn't real stable _before_ Scott tore into him. There's no tellin' what shape he's in now."

"Could we contact Stephen Strange?" Ororo asked. "Maybe he can use magic to track Will."

"That's worth a phone call, Charles," Jean advised. "He's shown an interest in Will before."

Xavier picked up the phone.

* * *

"You have to understand that this could take a few days, Charles."

"We may not have that much time, Stephen. Will is incredibly despondent right now. I have serious concerns that he might harm himself."

Strange exhaled in frustration. "Maybe if I work from inside his room, I'll be able to get a stronger fix on his location." He got out of his chair. "I'll need a few things from my sanctum. I'll be right back." He vanished in a flash of light.

"I'll look in Will's room and see if I can clear a spot for Stephen to sit down," Jean said as she stood up.

"Good idea," Logan said. "You might want to move the easy chair." Jean nodded and left the room.

After Strange returned, Jean brought him to Will's room. "Can I help you with anything?" she asked politely as they entered.

Strange glanced around the room. "Could you please bring that mirror a bit closer?"

Jean nodded, choosing to move Will's floor-length mirror by hand. She was uncertain if her powers would distract Strange, and chose to err on the side of caution. "Is this better?"

"Yes, thank you," Strange replied as he placed several other items on the floor, including an elaborately decorated metal tray and a world globe carved from quartz crystal. "If you could please get me two glasses of water, I can begin."

Jean found a small stack of plastic cups in the cabinet underneath Will's bathroom sink. She filled two of them with water and brought them to Strange. Taking them from her, he poured the contents of one into the tray and placed the other beside him. "I _will_ get thirsty eventually," he pointed out.

Jean smiled. "Sorry. I was just expecting a more arcane reason."

"No need to apologize. People keep expecting me to have some kind of mystical reason for everything that I do. It never occurs to them that I might have a telephone, TV, and fax machine in my house." He sat down in lotus position, and floated up off the floor a moment later.

"We'll bring you something to eat around breakfast time," she told him as she shut the door behind her.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, they were still searching. Strange reported that he had encountered several promising leads, but Will had apparently been moving around, and Strange found that he was always a few hours too late.

Warren and Betsy, who had taken the most recent shift in the infirmary, watched Rogue sleep in her recovery bed. She was being kept under sedation, both to prevent aggravation of her injuries and to keep her from becoming distressed about Will.

"You know," Warren said quietly, "for the longest time after I lost my wings, even after I came back to my senses, I refused to talk to anybody about what happened. I thought that nobody could possibly understand what I'd been through, so I didn't even try to explain. I built a prison for myself, I guess." He paused a moment, looking closely at Rogue. "I forgot that some of my best friends were in prisons of their own." Turning to face Betsy, he took her hand. "And sometimes I forget how lucky I was to find someone to set me free."

Betsy placed her head against Warren's chest, but didn't say anything.

She knew that she didn't have to.

* * *

Henry and Bobby relieved Betsy and Warren at seven the next morning. Henry changed Rogue's I.V. bag and checked her vital signs.

"Any improvement?" Bobby asked.

"I'm not sure yet. We really won't know for sure until she's awake. I'm going to start reducing her sedative levels. She won't be terribly alert, but at least she'll be able to let us know how she feels."

"Should we tell her about Will?"

"I don't know if that's in her best interest right now." He sat down and removed his glasses, leaning his head back until he was looking at the ceiling. "As her friend, I want to tell her. As her doctor, I know that the emotional stress could hinder her recovery."

"So what do we do?"

"We stall. We say that Will was ordered to go away for his recovery, and that he'll be back soon. Hopefully, before she's alert enough to start asking too many questions that we don't want to answer, we'll have found him and brought him back. I know," he sighed on seeing Bobby's expression, "I don't like it either. But until we have a clear idea of where Will is, we don't have much of a choice."

"She'll go postal if she finds out."

"We'll have to take the risk."

* * *

The first sensation to return was smell. _Hydrogen peroxide. Disinfectant. Surgical tape_.

Next came hearing. _Heart monitor. EKG. Ventilation shaft_.

She slowly opened her eyes, squinting even in the dim light of the room. _Medlab_, she realized. The stiffness in her neck told her that she was wearing a dampening collar.

The rustle of paper to her left made her made her turn her head, wincing as the muscles in her shoulder stretched. She saw a figure in a chair, reading a magazine. Licking her dry lips, she tried to speak. All she could manage was a hoarse whisper. "Bobby?"

Bobby jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, then slapped the intercom button next to her bed. "Bobby to Hank. She's awake." He stood up and stepped over to her. "How you feeling, Rogue?"

"I've got a killer headache, I can't move my arm, and I just woke up to your ugly mug. Outside of that, I'm just peachy."

"At least you still have your sense of humor."

"Like hell I do."

Henry arrived a few seconds later. "Ah, I see that our Southern spitfire has returned from the land of Nod. No," he told her when she tried to sit up, "don't move." He pressed a button on the side of her bed, elevating her chest and head. "I want to run a few tests."

Rogue patiently kept quiet while Henry did a quick check of her eyes, ears, nose and throat, then tried to move her arm through as wide a range of motion as she could manage. She was only able to raise the arm as high as her chest when moving it in front of her, and she hissed in pain when she tried to raise it to her side.

"That's enough," Henry said. "We'll have to keep your arm immobilized for a while. You're going to have to wear a sling." He took a fabric sling out of a cabinet and helped her slip it on. "How's that?"

"Better," she admitted. "I take it we won?"

Henry was silent for a moment. "Yes, we won."

"Good. Where's Will?"

_Try not to lie_, Henry reminded himself. "He needed some recovery time. Scott ordered him to go away for a little while. We're not sure when he'll get back."

"He didn't even stay to say goodbye to me?" she asked in a hurt voice.

"He said he'd contact us when he got to where he was going," Bobby supplied.

_Thank you, Robert_, Henry thought to himself.

"Oh," Rogue said quietly. Her eyes started to droop again. "I think your sedative's takin' effect again, Hank."

"Good. Try to get some rest. The buzzer's on your right side. Call if you need anything."

"'Kay," she murmured as she drifted off.

As the door shut behind them, Henry and Bobby looked at one another. "We had to do that, didn't we?" Bobby asked.

"Absolutely."

"And we did it because we don't want to hurt her."

"Correct."

"Then explain to me why I feel like slime."

"I'll let you know as soon as I answer it for myself."

* * *

Henry entered the War Room, where Xavier and most of the X-Men were busy looking for clues to Will's whereabouts. "Rogue awoke a few minutes ago," he announced. "She was asking about Will."

"What did you tell her?" Ororo asked.

"I gave her some very precise, meaningless answers. Has there been any progress?"

"Stephen says that Will seems to be staying in North America for now. He's working on narrowing it down from there."

Jean, who was working at one of the terminals, suddenly stopped and smacked herself in the head. "We're idiots," she announced.

"You have an idea, Jean?" Xavier asked.

"We've been spending our time working from the assumption that Will is acting rationally. Let's make it simpler. Someone you love is hurt, possibly dying. You're convinced that you're to blame. How do you feel about yourself?"

Everyone thought a moment. "I'd be punishing myself," Betsy said tentatively.

"Exactly. You can't punish yourself if you're comfortable, can you?"

"Of course not," Warren said.

"And we've already seen that Will tends to isolate himself when he's stressed. Name a place where Will can go where he'll be isolated and uncomfortable at the same time."

"The desert!" Logan said, snapping his fingers. "He hates the heat!"

"Bring up the map of the American Southwest," Ororo ordered. They all looked at the main screen.

"Death Valley?" Bobby suggested.

"Possibly," Ororo acknowledged. "There are a few other locations that would fit. At least we have a theory to work with now. Jean, inform Stephen of our reasoning."

* * *

Rogue drifted in and out of sleep. She was uncomfortable, even with the drugs masking the pain, and her level of awareness was straddling the line between dreaming and wakefulness.

A hot wind caught her attention, and she turned to find the source. She found herself standing in the middle of a dry wasteland, with the sun, directly above her, beating down on her like a sledgehammer.

Looking down at herself, she found that she was dressed in, of all things, her turquoise nightgown and black evening robe. "Talk about fashion mistakes," she muttered.

A sound from behind her made her turn around. A figure, far off in the distance, was slowly making its way towards her. Oddly enough, although the sun was directly above her, the figure cast a long shadow in front of it, stretching across the landscape like a shroud. A massive plateau loomed behind him.

Since the figure seemed to be her only company in this barren landscape, she started walking over to it. The distance was deceptive, apparently, because she soon came close to her mysterious companion.

"Excuse me... hello?" she said in a loud voice. "Could you help me, please?"

The figure didn't speak. Its face remained hidden in shadow. Rogue started to become annoyed, and moved close enough to intercept the mute shade.

Just as she was about to grab the man (how did she know it was a man?) and turn him around, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"_You've done nothing but cause us pain!_"

She whirled around to face Scott. Only it wasn't Scott. This man was a giant, with eyes that blazed red and a build that put Colossus to shame. The man ignored her, concentrating solely on the plodding stranger.

"_Soon you'll have her in the grave_," the giant continued. "_What the hell did you think you were doing? You could have killed her!_" The last two statements struck a familiar chord within Rogue's memory.

As she stood there, trying to remember, the shadowed figure passed by her. Looking down at the footprints that he left in the sand, she noticed some small spots of brown. Bending down, she found that they were wet. Her eyed widened in realization.

She ran after the figure, who had suddenly traveled what seemed an impossibly long distance. She gasped with exertion, but managed to catch up with him. Grabbing an arm, she whirled him around.

Will looked at her with soulless eyes, and a face convinced of its own damnation. A knife was buried in his chest, skewering a heart which was still beating. Drops of blood dripped from the knife, landing on the sand below.

"What happened to you?" she whispered.

His answering voice was sad, resigned:

"Nothing that I didn't deserve."

* * *

She awoke with a gasp, sitting up in the bed. A quick glance at the clock told her that about three hours had passed.

Rogue grabbed the buzzer and started pressing it like mad. Within a minute, Henry was running into the medlab. "What's wrong?" he wheezed.

"Henry McCoy," she said in a tight, controlled voice, "I want you to tell me _exactly_ what happened to Will."

* * *

Once they were able to determine a general area, Strange was able to come up with several possible locations for Will. The team had begun a discussion on how to proceed from there. Scott, who had been walking aimlessly throughout the complex, stood in a chair some distance away, listening to the discussion but not adding to it.

"Okay," Logan said, "he's gotta be in one of the Four Corners states. Question is, which one?"

"If I go to the center of the area," Strange suggested, "maybe I can narrow it down."

"He's in Wyoming," someone said from the doorway.

They all turned around. Rogue was leaning against the doorway. Henry stood right next to her, seemingly prepared to catch her should she fall.

"Rogue," Xavier said urgently, "you should be in bed, resting. You've been through a terrible trauma..."

"He's in Wyoming," she repeated firmly. "Near Devil's Tower National Park."

"How do you know?" Strange asked intently.

"He's hallucinating. I caught some sort of echo of his dream... which I guess a hallucination is, in a way. Devil's Tower was right behind him, clear as day."

"It fits, Stephen," Charles suggested. "An isolated, brutal environment, where the conditions are severe enough to make him extremely uncomfortable."

"I agree." Strange turned his gaze towards his globe, waving his hands with complicated gestures. A moment later, he nodded. "I have a fix on him. If you get a team together, I can transport them there immediately."

"We should keep it small," Jean suggested. "Too many people would seem threatening. He'll vanish, and we'll have to start all over again."

"Good idea, Jean. You, Bobby, Henry, Stephen, and myself."

"And me," Rogue added.

"Out of the question," Henry told her.

"Hank, he left because he thinks he hurt _me_. Nothing that any of you can say will convince him otherwise. If I'm there, in one piece, talking to him, then he's going to be a lot more likely to listen to reason. I _have_ to go."

They all looked at one another. "She's right," Logan admitted.

"I have to get a medical kit, and some canteens," Henry said. "I'll be back in five minutes." He rushed out the door.

"You don't want to go dressed like that, Rogue," Betsy pointed out.

Rogue looked at her pajamas. "Good point. Stephen, could you...?"

Strange nodded. A moment later, Rogue was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a plain blouse, with one sleeve rolled up to accommodate the sling. "Thank you. Jean, please ask Henry to bring my right glove from what's left of my uniform."

Henry returned a few minutes later, a first aid kit slung over his shoulder and a small cooler in his hands. He tossed Rogue her glove as he placed everything on the table, and she used her teeth to help put it on.

Two minutes later, they were ready to go. "All set?" Jean asked.

"One second, Jean," Rogue said. "There's something I have to say first." She turned to face Scott.

"Scott, I made Henry tell me what happened. I'm not going to demand an explanation, because there are some things that just can't be excused. I'm just going to try and forget that it ever happened. _But_ I want one thing to be absolutely clear between us.

"If I can't convince him to come back, to give us another chance, I'll still be an X-Man, but you and I will be quits. You will no longer exist to me, because you'll be responsible for taking away the best thing that's ever happened to me.

"I _love_ that man, Scott. I've just been afraid to say it - to him, and to myself. I want to share my life with him, in whatever way we can, powers or no powers, and if I've lost him because of what you've done, I will _never_ forgive you."

Rogue turned her back to Scott and stood next to Ororo.

"Let's go."


	37. Chapter 37

The merciless sun beat down on their heads the moment they appeared in the Wyoming desert. Bobby quickly coated one hand in ice and rubbed it against his head and face. "Oh, man. This is brutal."

"And Will's been out here for at least one or two hours," Jean said. "He'll be in bad shape."

"Then we should stop yapping and go find him," Rogue declared as she put on her sunglasses. "Can you give us a direction, Stephen?"

Strange took a few steps away from them, then floated up about three feet with the aid of his coat. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then pointed to an area to the right of the overbearing bulk of the mesa known as Devil's Rock. "That way."

"Is he moving away from us or towards us?" Ororo asked.

"Away."

"You'd better let me carry everybody, Ororo," Jean suggested. "We may spook him if you use your winds."

Ororo nodded and let Jean carry her and the others. Strange went ahead of them, levitating above the sparse, dusty ground. They moved quickly, accelerating until the terrain underneath them became a blur.

Rogue tried to remain calm, aware that the anger and worry that had given her the strength to get out of her sickbed would be a liability when dealing with Will. Her best tactic would be to radiate calm and understanding.

While she did not agree with Will's decision to leave after his encounter with Scott, she felt that she could understand it to some degree. She had fled from emotionally stressful situations at several points in her life. But she had always left to seek help; she had left her hometown to go with Mystique and Destiny when she was just a child, but she knew even at a young age that the situation she was leaving would eventually destroy her if she did not escape. She had loved Mystique and Destiny, but they could not give her the help and guidance in her powers that Xavier could.

Will had fled because he felt guilty for hurting her, but Rogue knew from painful experience that fleeing did not end the guilt; it just drove it deep inside, giving it an opportunity to fester and infect the mind and soul. She cared far too much for Will to allow him to fall into the emotional pit that she had been in for so long.

Bobby's voice broke through her quiet musings: "I see him!" he said, pointing ahead of them.

Rogue followed his arm to see a distant figure slowly making its way through the desert. The dirt which coated its clothing made it seem almost a part of the landscape.

"We're lucky you were looking that way," Jean told him. "He's covered with so much dust, we might have missed him."

"Stephen," Rogue asked, "can you keep us out of his sight for a few minutes?"

"Already done. I'm also setting up some small dimensional passages. They won't keep him from teleporting away if he really wants to, but they'll slow him down long enough that he won't just vanish on us without warning."

"Good work," Ororo said. "Do you have a plan, Rogue?"

"You're going to put me down about a hundred yards in front of him, and drop my visual cloak. Then you're going to get out of earshot and out of his sight. I'm going to talk to him, and convince him to come back. I'll wave to you when it's safe to come for us."

"Rogue," Jean objected, "that's too dangerous. We don't have any idea of what his mental state is."

"He won't hurt me," Rogue said with absolute certainty.

"What if he tries to run?"

"Then you zap him. But that's our last resort. Now, let's do this." Jean looked unhappy about it, but she complied with Rogue's request, gently setting her down.

"Give me two of the canteens, Hank."

"Here," he said, handing them to her and helping her clip them to her belt. "Good luck, Rogue."

"Thanks."

She watched the others maneuver behind a large boulder, then turned to face Will. His face was downcast, and had the same hopeless expression that she had seen in her dream. _Jean_, she asked mentally, _tell Stephen to drop the cloak now_. She counted to ten, giving Strange enough time to dispel the enchantment, then waited for Will to get within twenty feet of her before she spoke.

"Don't you think it's time you stopped to rest?"

Will's head snapped up, and his wild eyes stared at her intently. After a moment, he shook his head and started walking again.

_He probably thinks I'm another hallucination_, she thought to herself. She took one of the canteens and shook it in her hand, causing the water to slosh. "You could use some of this, too," she told him. "Here, catch."

She tossed the canteen to him, and he reacted by jumping back. Slowly, he bent down onto one knee and touched the canteen with one shaking hand. After determining that it was indeed real, he took it and slowly stood back up, looking at her with both surprise and fear.

"Yes, I'm really here," she said gently, "and I'm okay, and I want you to come back to the mansion with me."

Will tried to speak, but all his parched throat could manage was a dusty cough. He opened the canteen, and took a long, deep drink from it. After another brief coughing fit, he tried again. "But... I hurt you."

"What did you do to me, Will?" she asked in a quiet voice. "How did you hurt me? You're not the one who shot me."

"I wasn't fast enough," he muttered. "I could have prevented it. I could have taken my man down and gone to help you."

"No. You tried not to kill anyone. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"But... Scott said..."

"Scott didn't know anything about what had happened. He didn't have any right to say the things he did. No one is blaming you for what happened, and we all want you to come home." She held out her free hand. "Please."

Will started to move towards her, but stopped himself and turned away. "I _can't_," he wailed.

"Why not?" she pressed, feeling that she was close to convincing him.

"You weren't hurt because of me then, but you will be eventually. I hurt everyone eventually." He said the last statement more to himself than to Rogue.

"Will, I don't understand what you're trying to say."

He took in a long, shuddering breath. "Rogue, I've done something terrible. Something unforgivable."

Rogue paused at that, wondering just what Will would consider unforgivable. "What did you do, Will?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" he shouted in a voice which cracked from the sudden strain. "That's the hell of it, Rogue. _I can't remember!_" He collapsed to his knees.

"I catch glimpses of it sometimes, like it's in the corner of my eye. But it always hides when I try to remember it. It's always there, though, staying in the back of my mind. All I know is that whatever I did, I did it to someone I cared about.

"That's why I have to stay away from you, Rogue. I'd never be able to live with myself if I ever hurt you. Now, please... run away, and save yourself while you can."

"No," she told him in a firm voice. She walked closer to him and squatted slightly, so that she could look him in the face. "You told me once that you didn't care about my past; that it didn't make any difference to you. That works both ways, Will. Your past doesn't make any difference to me."

Will got to his feet and started pacing. "I know that. But every instinct I have tells me to hide you, protect you, put you up in an ivory tower with a dragon to guard you and keep you safe. I know that I can't do that... that you're meant to be free, but that's how I feel. I can't think straight when you're around me... I can't stop thinking about you when you're not. You've become the first thing I think of when I wake up, the last image in my mind before I go to sleep." He whirled around to face her, beating his fists against his chest. "Don't you understand that I'm in love with you?"

Rogue's heart skipped a beat, and she had to swallow to speak again. "You are?"

He looked at her for a moment, seemingly confused, then walked up to her and, taking her by her uninjured shoulder, gently but firmly hauled her to her feet.

"Oh, you foolish, silly, stupid woman," he said in a low, rough voice. "You stand by me, no matter what happens. You defend me, you watch over me, you bring a light into my soul that I never even knew was missing. Before I met you, the noise in my mind and soul was so loud that it was drowning me out... I was starting to forget just who I was, losing my sense of self. Now I feel more connected to the world than ever before... all because you've refused to give up on me. How could I _not_ love you?"

"Then come home," she begged. "Whatever you did, whatever the consequences are, let me help you face them. I won't give up on you... but you can't give up on us. You let me lean on you when I was weak... now it's your turn to lean on me. You're not alone any more. You have a family that cares about you, and a woman who loves you. Come home."

He said nothing, simply looking at her, then, without warning, started crying, sagging to the ground as the exhaustion and stress of the past two days finally took their toll on him.

Rogue helped him down, holding his head against her chest as he sobbed. Raising her free arm, she gestured for the others to join them. "We don't have to go straight back if you don't think you're ready yet," she told Will as they approached.

"I... I think I need some time," he said in a tear-strained voice.

"Then you'll get it," Jean promised him.

* * *

"Charles, it's Jean. We found him. Not good... he's physically exhausted, and between that, the stress, and probably having his brain baked from the heat, he's about to collapse. We're in a small town just outside the park. I'm going to look into renting a van and driving back for at least part of the way. No, there's no way he could handle coming straight back. Stephen is going to stay with us to keep an eye on him. For now, we're all beat, so I got the location of the local motel. Would you believe that _Will_ is paying for us? Apparently, he just grabbed things at random when he left - including five bundles of hundred dollar bills. Henry's going to examine Will when we get to the motel, so I'll call again from there if there's anything serious. Rogue's a lot better than I expected... about the only good thing that came out of this is that they finally confessed that they love each other. You're damn right, it's about time. Okay, I have to go. Tell Scott that I love him, but I'm still mad as hell at him after seeing what happened to Will. Bye."

* * *

The door to the motel room opened, and Henry and Bobby helped move Will onto a bed. "Bobby," Henry said in a clinical tone, "fill the tub with water."

"You'll want it to be cool, but not cold," Strange added. "Too cold, and he'll go into shock."

"What supplies will we need?" Ororo asked.

"Food, obviously. You'd better get some bottled water, too. There's no telling what's in the water around here. Get him a change of clothes... do you know what size he is, Rogue?"

"Men's medium shirt, thirty-six waist, thirty-four leg. If you're getting jeans, you'd better make them loose fit. I think he's a size nine shoe."

"We'll need aloe gel for his sunburn, and some aspirin for the pain from the burn," Strange said as he and Henry started stripping Will of his clothing.

"Something's sticking here," Henry said as he tried to remove Will's shirt. Unbuttoning it from the top down, he looked underneath the collar. "Oh, my God," he said as his face fell.

"What's wrong?" Ororo asked.

"Remember that knife wound?"

"Of course."

"It never healed properly. The entire front of his shirt is pasted with dried blood." Grabbing the first aid kit, he pulled out the surgical scissors and started cutting the shirt away.

Strange took the scissors for a moment and cut the laces off Will's boots so that he could pull them off. "We'll have to cut through the clot just below the surface, then slowly peel the shirt off. You'd better add hydrogen peroxide to the list, Ororo."

"Give me a psychic yell if you need anything else," Jean said as she and Ororo left.

It took nearly twenty minutes for Strange and Henry to remove the remainder of the shirt. When they were done, they found that the original wound was closed, but not healed. "Can we risk putting him in the water?" Rogue asked.

"I think it's safe," Henry said. "Once we bring his body temperature back down and let him rest, his healing abilities should kick in. Get his pants, Stephen." They moved Will's nude body towards the bathroom a minute later. Bobby quickly moved out of the way to give them room, and they slowly lowered Will's body into the water. Strange grabbed the towels from the rack, soaking them in the water and draping them over Will's chest and the back of his head. "He's lucky he was wearing his hat. The only thing that got sunburned was his neck."

"Why don't we clean him up while we're at it?" Bobby suggested. "We might be missing something under all that dirt."

"Good idea," Henry agreed. He and Strange scrubbed Will down with a clinical efficiency that came from their time spent as interns. Ororo and Jean returned just as they were finishing.

"The local store didn't have much in the way of clothes," Jean said. "Will's stuck with the cowboy look until we can find something that he'd actually buy on his own."

"I can transform it into something more appropriate later," Strange told her as he started to disinfect the wound.

"How bad is it?" Ororo asked.

"Well... it's closed, but the scar isn't too clean. If he were a normal patient, I might be worried, but Henry tells me that Will is anything _but_ a normal patient. So I guess I have to say that he's not too bad." He and Henry pulled Will out of the tub, and Bobby quickly toweled him off. After Will's chest was bandaged, he was deposited in the nearest bed. "He should be all right for a while," Strange said.

"Why don't we get something to eat, then?" Ororo suggested. "Then we can get some rest ourselves."

"I can't argue with that," Jean said. "I'm starving."

"Didn't we pass a greasy spoon on the way here?" Bobby asked.

"I think it was called 'The Desert Skillet,'" Henry recalled.

"Why don't you guys get something to eat," Rogue suggested, "and I'll keep an eye on Will? I'm more tired than I am hungry, anyway, so I'll have something when I get up."

"You did push yourself pretty hard today," Jean told her, handing her a twenty dollar bill. "The diner's open twenty-four hours, so sleep yourself out."

"Okay. I'll stay here for now. Wake me up when you get back, and I'll switch rooms."

Jean nodded, taking the room key and shutting the door behind her as she and the others left.

Rogue wearily slumped onto the empty bed, removing her sneakers and lying down. Turning her head towards Will, she saw that his face was still lined with strain and worry.

Biting her lip for a moment, Rogue got up and slid her bed over so that it touched Will's. Placing a pillow between their heads, she wrapped herself up in the top sheet and curled up beside him. Willingly succumbing to the exhaustion and strain of the day, she quickly started to drift into slumber.

Just before she fell completely asleep, her hand searched through the sheet for Will's. Finding it, she gripped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I love you," she whispered, surrendering to dreams.

* * *

Jean and the others came in about an hour later. Opening the door slowly, they quietly walked in and looked at the two sleeping forms on the bed.

"They _do_ make a cute couple, don't they?" Strange commented after a few moments.

"We like to think so," Henry said.

"Think we should wake her?" Bobby asked.

Ororo thought for a moment. "No. After the past few days, the least they deserve is a night together."

"Is it safe?" Strange asked in a concerned voice.

"It should be," Jean told him. "Rogue's power isn't active when she's asleep."

"Fortunately, my magic is. I can sleep while levitating. Bobby, would you and Henry mind a roomie for the evening?"

"No problem. You'll just be another target for the pillow fight."

Strange sighed. "Maybe I should set up a protective circle."

* * *

Jean telekinetically closed the door behind her as she and Ororo entered their room. "God, I'm beat," she said as she collapsed onto her bed. "I think that the sun baked all the energy out of me."

"I could sleep for a day or two myself," Ororo confessed, "but I absolutely _must_ take a shower first." She slipped out of her clothes and walked into the bathroom. A few seconds later, there was a small rainstorm falling onto the shower tile. "Oh, Goddess," she sighed, "I needed this. I feel like I carried half the desert in my hair."

"Then I must have the other half. Is there any shampoo in there?"

"Two sample bottles."

"Good."

Ororo stepped out a few minutes later, wrapped in a bath towel. "Your turn," she said in a contented voice.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Jean replied as she practically threw her clothes off. "Don't fall asleep while I'm in there. I don't want to have to explain any flooding damage."

"I can hold out for a few more minutes. Enjoy yourself."

As Jean hummed to herself while taking her shower, Ororo toweled herself off and tied her hair back with some elastic bands they had purchased at the drugstore. "Do you think Will is going to be all right?" she asked.

"If we give him enough time to recover before he gets back, then yes. Could you make the rain a little harder, please?"

Ororo complied. "All done," Jean said a few minutes later. Ororo dissipated the cloud, and soon afterwards, a T-shirt floated out of the shopping bag and towards the bathroom. Jean walked out wearing it after a few moments. "I just _adore_ the way that feels."

Ororo, who had finished drying herself, was now under the sheets, rapidly lapsing into sleep. "Can you get the light?" she yawned.

Jean turned the switch off with a flicker of thought. "I want to go looking for a van in the afternoon," she told Ororo. "I think Hank should come along... he can check the candidates in the car lot for problems, and I should be able to catch any obvious lies from the salesman."

"Excellent strategy," was the murmured reply. "Good night, Jean."

"Night."

* * *

Consciousness returned to Will very slowly, as his weary body demanded food and water. He rolled over onto his stomach, groaning from the soreness in his legs. A few minutes later, he was coherent enough to sit up and open his eyes, which squinted against the morning light. As he sat at the edge of the bed, he became aware of several things:

- His memories of the past few days were very hazy.

- He was nude.

- There was a pile of clothing on the chair to his right... which included a bra and panties.

- He could both feel and see some residual heat from a depression next to him on the mattress.

- The shower in the bathroom was running.

The average man, upon putting these facts together, will react in one of several manners, ranging from an ecstatic "_Yes!_" to sheer panic.

Will chose to panic.

Frantically searching around the room, he noticed a small, neatly folded stack of clothing on a nearby table. He quickly jumped out of the bed and tried them on. The clothes, which appeared to be a country/western style, were not his preferred mode of dress, but at that moment he would gladly have worn a pink velvet tutu and whalebone corset if they were the only things on hand.

Part of him wanted to run out the door and keep running, but he realized that he wouldn't get any answers about just what had happened to him until he found out the identity of his companion. He pulled out the other free chair and sat down, trying to remain calm.

A few minutes later, the sound of flowing water ceased. A brief, quiet rumble indicated that the door to the shower stall was opening.

_May as well get this over with_, he thought to himself. "Um... good morning," he said in a voice which cracked slightly near the end.

The bathroom door opened slightly, and a head poked out into the bedroom.

"Good morning," Rogue told him cheerfully before pulling her head back and closing the door again.

Will sat there, unmoving, with his mouth hanging open and three words echoing in his head:

_Oh... _

_my... _

**_God_**.

* * *

Rogue dried herself off with the towel and tied it off around her chest, trying to stay quiet as she shook with laughter. Will's expression, she decided, was beyond words. After brushing her hair, she opened the door a second time. "Can you hand me my clothes, please? They're in the bag by the door."

After the bag seemed to transport itself across the room... she didn't think that Will had enough strength to work in overdrive, but he came damn close... she dressed and left the bathroom. "The other towel's on the rack," she told him.

Will mumbled his thanks and practically flew into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Once she heard the shower running, she had to bury her head in a pillow to muffle the laughter.

* * *

About ten minutes later, Will stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and with his hair slicked back. "You hungry?" he asked her.

"Starving. I was too tired to eat yesterday." Standing up, she tossed him a pair of leather work gloves. "We got them at the hardware store. Let's go eat."

Will nodded and opened the door for her. "Shouldn't we let the others know where we're going?"

"I told Jean that I'd eat when I got up. She'll give us a telepathic buzz if she gets worried."

"Which way to the diner?"

"Take a right." A few minutes later, the bell on the door clinked as they entered the diner.

"Good morning," the waitress told them cheerfully. "Table for two?"

"Yes, please," Rogue said. They were led to a booth, and a few minutes later, Rogue was starting on her bottomless cup of coffee, waiting for her ham steak and eggs. Will had ordered a stack of pancakes with sausage and toast on the side.

"So," Rogue said.

"So."

"Where do we go from here?"

"I could answer that with a few jokes, but that wouldn't feel right. I think we should take this slowly, and see just where it leads. If we try to move to fast, we could ruin things, and that's the last thing I want."

"That sounds good," she said as she reached across the table and took his hand in hers.

"Can I ask you something?" he ventured.

"Anything."

Will covered his face with his left hand for a moment. "I cannot believe that I'm instigating this conversation," he said to himself. "You see, my memories of the past few days are really sketchy. I remember walking around for a long time, I remember my conversation with you... and the next thing after that is waking up about... oh, an hour or so ago. Can you fill in any gaps?"

Rogue gave him a blank look. "You mean you don't remember how wonderful last night was?"

For the second time that morning, Will's mind achieved a state equivalent to that of a car whose engine has seized. "Excuse me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Well, I would have waited for you to take a shower," she told him, fighting to keep a straight face, "but I was so hot and sweaty that I couldn't wait. You weren't as bad, of course, but the rubdown that you got probably helped..."

By this point, Will had the appearance of someone whose brain was undergoing a nuclear meltdown. Rogue decided to be merciful at that point and burst into laughter, explaining the events of the past day. She had finished by the time their meals arrived.

"So how do you feel?" she asked as she put salt and pepper on her eggs.

"Weak," he admitted. "Outside of having some very sore feet, though, I don't think I'm hurt. I should be okay after a few days of rest."

"I think Jean and Hank were going to look for a van today. If they can find one with an extended cab, you'll be able to lie down in the back seat."

"Well, I've never been able to sleep in a car," Will said with a grimace, "but at least I'll be able to relax." His gaze shifted to a point just beyond her. "Good morning, Jean, Ororo."

"Good morning," Ororo said as the two women walked up to them. "How do you two feel?"

"Weak, but recovering," Will said.

"Same here," Rogue added with a smile.

"How's the shoulder?" Jean asked.

"Still a little stiff," Rogue admitted. "I blasted it with some heat when I was in the shower, though, so it's not too bad."

Will gave her a concerned look. "I didn't even think to ask about that."

"Hey, it's okay," Rogue said, patting him on the arm. "You've had enough to deal with. I'm fine. I just need some rest, same as you."

"May we sit down?" Ororo asked. Rogue and Will nodded, sliding over to give them room.

"We already ordered," Will told her. "Any sign of life from the others?"

"I knocked on the door before we came here," Jean told them. "We may want to look into getting an extra room for Stephen from here on. Bobby and Hank were up to their usual antics during the night, and he didn't get any sleep."

"We'd better keep him happy," Will decided. "As the wise man said, 'do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup'."

Ororo chuckled. "At least your good spirits are returning."

"The company that I've been keeping has helped. Rogue told me that you'll be looking for a van today," he said, turning to Jean.

"That's right. I'd like to see if we can get going by tomorrow morning."

"Any idea which route we'll have to take?" Rogue asked.

"I'm not sure. I haven't had a chance to look at an atlas yet."

"The most direct route would be to take I-90 until we hit Chicago," Will suggested. "Then we switch to I-80 all the way to New York."

"I thought you didn't drive," Ororo said in surprise.

"I don't. But I've spent enough time as navigator to remember the basic outline of some maps." He turned his attention back to his breakfast when the waitress showed up to take orders from Ororo and Jean. "You know," he said half to himself, "I don't have the appetite that I thought I would."

"Probably because you're breaking a two day fast," Rogue suggested.

"Probably," he agreed, yawning. "If you need any leverage at the car lot, Jean, come and get me. I'll wave my credit cards around for a few minutes, and get the salesman drooling to make a sale. That should drop the price down a few hundred bucks. Otherwise, I think I'll go back to sleep for a while."

"Okay. By the way, any problem with the clothes we got you?"

"Well, to be honest, they're starting to chafe."

Ororo winced. "Where?"

"Normally, I'd tell you, but you're about to eat. Can I slide out, please?" Ororo got out of the booth, and Will stood up. "See you in a few hours."

"Wait up," Rogue told him as she wiped off her mouth with a napkin.

After they had paid the check and tipped the waitress, they walked back to the motel. Henry, Bobby and Strange left their room just as Rogue was pulling out her keys. "Morning, guys," she said cheerfully.

"Morning," Bobby said. "You two look a lot better."

"I feel better," Will replied. "I still need a lot more sleep, though. I'm crashing until we have some transportation. Ororo and Jean are still at the diner."

Strange looked at Will. "You haven't shaved yet."

"Didn't have my straightedge," was the shrugged reply.

"You shave with a straightedge?" Henry asked incredulously.

"I have to, if I don't want to get lacerated. The safety razor's only a century or so old, and whenever I try to use one, the Chorus keeps messing me up. Besides, I haven't had a beard since I went grey. I'm curious about how I'll look with one."

"To be honest, so am I," Rogue mused. "We'll talk about it later. See you guys in a few hours."

"Enjoy your rest," Bobby said, "or whatever it is you'll be doing."

Will sighed. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Bobby. It's crowded enough with me in there." He followed Rogue into their room, shutting the door behind him. "Remind me to smack him later."

"I get to go first," she told him as she sat down on the bed and removed her sneakers, tossing them aside.

"I should have straightened out the sheets before we left," Will remarked. "I hate sleeping in an unmade bed."

"Poor baby," she teased. "The burdens you have to bear."

"It's so nice to have a sympathetic ear," he replied blandly. "Do you want to split the beds back apart?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I'd really feel better if I was close to you," she said shyly.

Will gave her a gentle smile. "Okay. But it's _my_ turn for the Boris Karloff impersonation." He kicked off his shoes, then took the top sheet off the bed and wrapped himself in it in a manner similar to the way Rogue had when she was in his room. Standing at the foot of the bed, he let his eyes roll back and tilted forward, collapsing onto the mattress.

Rogue laughed as she caught him and gently rolled him onto his back. "I've finally got you where I want you," she told him with a mischievous smile.

Will gave her a look of mock fright. "Oh, my. I've fallen into the clutches of the legendary Mississippi Marauder. Whatever shall become of me?"

"Whatever I want," she replied in a husky whisper, a smoldering look building in her eyes.

"_Yipe_."

Rogue examined the sheet where it surrounded Will's head. Taking a loose section below his chin, she pulled it taut and covered his face up to the bridge of his nose. "Perfect," she declared.

"For what? Planning on using me to start your own male harem?"

"No," she said with a chuckle. "Perfect for _this_."

She slowly lowered her head, breathing softly over his forehead and eyes. Moving down, she tilted her head slightly and brought her lips in contact with the cloth. She could feel the pressure of his lips through it, and the warmth of his body penetrated the fabric, allowing her to sense the flush riding in his cheeks.

The kiss lasted about a minute, and both Rogue and Will had to gasp for breath when their lips separated. "Wow," he whispered.

"Haven't you been kissed before?" she asked with a smile.

"Not like _that_," he admitted.

"You're going to make me blush," she said, yawning as she finished. "We'd better take that nap now." She stood up and walked over to the door, placing the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside, then closing and locking it. A moment later, she closed the curtains, reducing the light in the room to a level comfortable enough to fall asleep in. "That's your only change of clothes for the next day or two," she pointed out. "It might be a good idea to let them air out."

"Good idea," Will agreed. He sat up and disentangled himself from the sheet.

"I'll be out in a minute," she told him as she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Will stripped down to his briefs and bundled himself in the sheet again. It actually wasn't that uncomfortable, he decided. He had slept in a mummy style sleeping bag at times during his travels, and the sensation was a similar one. Before covering his arms, he pulled back the next level of sheet on the bed so that Rogue would not have to make him move. Turning away from the door, he started to relax and drift into the beginning stages of sleep.

After a few minutes, he heard the bathroom door open, and felt the mattress shift as Rogue settled into the bed. "Comfortable?" she asked.

"Very."

"Good." He felt the pressure of her body against his as she leaned her head against the back of his neck. She draped her left arm over his chest, and curled her left leg around his waist.

Will glanced down at her leg - he did have normal desires, after all - and was slightly surprised to see that she had removed her jeans. _I suppose it's safe with me covered up like this,_ he decided. _Besides, even with invulnerable skin, sleeping in jeans can't be too comfortable_.

Rogue shifted a bit, getting into a more comfortable position, and lifted her hips off the bed for a moment. This brought her left side into Will's field of vision for about three-quarters of a second. Will's heart caught in his throat when he realized that he saw no band of fabric or elastic crossing Rogue's thigh.

He found that his throat had suddenly gone dry. "Uh... Rogue?"

"I know what you're going to ask," she said in a quiet voice. "You're right. I'm not."

"No," she told him firmly, as she felt his body tense. "Relax." She tightened her embrace, being careful to keep the pressure at a level firm enough to immobilize him, but not hurt him. "You love me, and I love you, and we're going to find something that works for us. You're weak, and you need to let someone else be the strong one for a while. You've let me lean on you, so now it's time for you to lean on me. I won't hurt you, Will, and I won't let anyone else hurt you. Trust me. Please?"

She felt him slowly relax, and heard his breathing soften. "Good," she said in an encouraging voice. "Now sleep, and heal."

After a few minutes, his breathing became deep and regular, and she realized that he had fallen asleep. She yawned, letting her own drowsiness overwhelm her, then kissed the back of Will's head through the sheet.

"See you in dreams, lover," she whispered as she drifted off.


	38. Chapter 38

Matt Adams wiped his face and finished waxing the last of his cars. "There you go, honey," he crooned, "you're all set to rope us in a new mark."

Of course, he said that every morning, even though he hadn't made a sale in nearly a month. Adams was an incurable optimist, however... he knew in his heart that another sucker would always show up eventually.

Stepping back into his air conditioned office, Adams took a deep drink from the can of Pepsi on his desk and sat down, turning in his chair and propping his feet on his desk. A moment later, he was deeply immersed in the fascinating details of the comics page.

The faint sound of footsteps in the gravel of the lot caught his attention, and he lowered his paper and peered out the window.

"Oh, Mama," he whispered to himself.

The young woman who was examining one of the vans could only be described as a knockout. _Redhead, long legs, nice..._

His train of thought was rather abruptly derailed when a muscular man with slicked back hair appeared came into view from the other side of the van.

_...boyfriend. Oh, well,_ he thought with a sigh, _better get to work_.

He stood up with a grunt and walked out, taking his Stetson off its hook on the wall and plopping it onto his head. He pasted his friendliest smile onto his face and walked towards them. "Morning! Can I help you folks?"

"We were looking at this van," the man said in a scholarly voice. "What can you tell us about it?"

Adams felt a sensation pass through him that is not unlike what a lion feels upon seeing a blind gazelle with three broken legs. "Well, sir," he replied in his silkiest voice, "let's talk..."

* * *

Bobby sat in the chair of his motel room, idly leafing through a copy of the local paper. He found that the best opportunities for meeting women would be the square dance or the rodeo. _Maybe I can combine the two and rope up a few dancers._

The sound of deep, regular breathing on the other side of the room distracted him for a moment. He turned his head to where Strange sat on the floor, meditating. "I don't suppose you're up to hitting a bar?" he asked quietly.

"I gave up drinking years ago," Strange replied in a normal tone of voice, nearly startling Bobby out of his chair.

"Sorry about that," Strange told him as he open his eyes and stood up. "I was just coming out of the trance when you spoke."

"That's okay," Bobby said as he composed himself. "A heart attack every week or so keeps me young. Hey, can you whip us up a deck of cards or something? I need something to keep me occupied until we leave."

"I saw a tobacco and magazine store right next to the diner. Why don't we pick up some things to read on the trip?"

Bobby considered it. "Not a bad idea. Are you going to change into something a bit less conspicuous?"

Strange snapped his fingers, and was briefly engulfed in a brilliant purple aura. He emerged from it dressed in a blue polo shirt and tan slacks. "You were saying?"

"Never mind." Bobby picked up the keys from the nightstand, and they left the room.

The store was densely packed with paperbacks and magazines, and had a smaller rack near the candy which held juvenile and comic books. The extensive tobacco section near the back of the store gave off a surprisingly pleasant aroma which seemed to have permeated the wood of the building decades before.

They each picked up several paperbacks and magazines, and filled a small sack with penny candy. "Something to snack on during the trip," Bobby explained.

"Just keep in mind that rest stops are few and far between out here," Strange cautioned him.

"We should be okay. Want to check up on Jean and Hank?"

"They probably have the salesman ready to cry by now. Let's go watch their handiwork."

* * *

_The leaves crunched underneath her feet as she walked through the forest. The gold and scarlet cape of the trees billowed above her, undulating with the breeze that cast its melancholy enchantment over the land._

_Draping the hem of her cloak over one arm, she gathered her skirt up in her hands, allowing her to run through the bushes, following the faint trails left over hundreds of years by countless generations of deer and elk. The rich, earthy smells of the loam of the mossy hills and old, crumbling wood filled her nose as she wove her way among the ferns._

_Shade gradually made way for sunlight, and she walked out of the woods to step onto a large field, which was cut by a bubbling stream. Following it, she crossed over several other trickles of water, joining with the one she trailed and causing the slow stream to become a cascade of froth as it pounded on the rocks along its way to the falls._

_She didn't slow her step as she leapt off the edge of the rapids, descending in a long, slow arc towards the bottom. She pierced the water like a naked blade, arching her back and swimming towards the light. As her head broke through the surface, she flipped her hair back, spraying the surface of the pool with miniature raindrops._

_Gliding lazily through the water, she swam towards a large, flat, moss-covered rock at the edge of the pool. She climbed atop the rock and lay on her back, letting the warmth of the sun bake the moisture from her clothing. Gathering her hair into her hands, she braided it into one long plait, which she draped over her right shoulder._

_The sound of the falling water had an effect that was almost hypnotic, beguiling her and making her drowsy. She stretched, yawning, and slipped into a relaxing doze._

_He walked softly through the forest, taking care not to disturb the creatures who dwelled there. They, after all, lived here just as he did, and he felt that it was proper to be polite to his neighbors._

_He followed the game trails, knowing that they would eventually lead him to water. Finding that there were no animals in the area, he slung his bow across his shoulder and quickened his pace, moving towards the sound of running water._

_The bubbling of small streams eventually increased in volume until it became the roar of spray. Leaping from rock to rock, moving quietly enough to remain unheard, he squinted against the sudden brightness as he stepped out onto a small but lush patch of grass that faced the falls._

_He was briefly dazzled by the play of sunlight on the surface of the water, and so did not see the young woman who lay only a short distance in front of him. She seemed to appear from within a pool of shimmering light, stretched out before him as if beckoning him to come closer._

_She awoke from her slumber gradually, curling up into a ball and opening her eyes. Finding that her hair had fallen over her face, obscuring her vision, she lazily brushed it back._

_A heartbeat later, she jumped up into a crouch, wrapping her cloak around herself and staring at the intruder with cautious eyes. She did not move from her rock, but did slowly look him up and down, maintaining a steady gaze._

_He was tall and lean, clad in fur-trimmed leather, and held a bow in one hand. He stared at her for a long, breathless moment, then slowly bent down and placed the bow and his quiver of arrows down on the ground, stepping back and holding his empty hands in front of him. Slowly, the man sat on the ground, crossing his legs and placing his hands, palms facing up, on his knees. He kept his eyes on her, but did not move._

_Standing up, she warily circled him, trying to determine if he was a threat to her. He remained still, but tried to maintain eye contact with her whenever she entered his field of vision._

_Hesitantly, she reached out with one trembling hand, touching his cheek and running her fingers along the roughness of his whiskered chin. She smiled at the novelty of the scratchy texture, then moved her hand down his neck to stroke the softer hair on his chest._

_Glancing at him, she tugged at the top of his tunic, pulling it above his head and tossing it aside. As she stared at his chest and shoulders, she traced her fingers over the dragons that writhed along his arms. He touch was as light as a breeze, barely stirring the hairs on his skin. He resisted the urge to twitch at the sensation, which felt like an insect alighting on his body._

_He slowly raised his right hand, taking care not to startle her, and brushed the side of her face with the back of his fingers. She flinched for a moment, but took his hand in hers before he could pull it back, pressing it to her cheek. He gently stroked her face, moving his hand along her chin and brushing the tips of his fingers over her lips. His touch shifted to her hair as he moved downward, caressing her shoulders and throat._

_She leaned in close to him, softly brushing her lips against his, wrapping her arms around him and guiding him to the ground. As they stretched out on the lush carpet of grass, she draped her body over his and sealed their mouths together, sharing a single breath between them._

_He made sure that his own mouth and hands were not idle as he stroked her back and slowly moved downward. She smiled to herself, and encouraged him by firmly pressing her hips against his left leg. She slid slowly along his body with a slow, deliberate motion, savoring the onset of a familiar tingling sensation deep within her._

_She became more frantic in her responses to him, leaving scratches down his back and blazing a trail of kisses along his chest. His back arched in response, and he shuddered as the intense reactions shot through his body._

_They reveled in each other's embrace, letting the heat build as they each sought to find that part within the other that would make them whole. She felt her entire body stiffen as..._

* * *

... She awoke. 

Rogue found herself in the bed which she was sharing with Will. He was still wrapped in the sheet, and by the sound of his breathing, was still asleep. She, however, was wide awake, and had an insistent tingling between her legs which was slowly frustrating her.

She bit her lip, uncertain about what to do. She could go into the bathroom, but she was reluctant to leave Will's side. On the other hand, she had no intention of waking him with any movement of the bed. She decided to compromise, and rolled over so that she was in spoon position with him.

Will mumbled incoherently for a moment, then rolled towards her, lying on his back and bending his legs. Rogue barely got out of the way in time, and ended up with her right leg loosely trapped underneath Will's lower body.

She lay perfectly still for about thirty seconds, holding her breath and keeping her eyes on Will's face. Once she was certain that he was still asleep, she hooked her left leg over him and crossed her ankles, effectively wrapping her legs around him. She then curled her left arm around Will's chest and pressed herself tightly against him.

_Thank God he's such a sound sleeper when he's healing_, she thought to herself. _I'd **die** if I had to explain this._

She shifted her hips by the smallest amount, but the signals that her brain received were so intense that she had to suppress a gasp. _Well, if I'm going to do this_, she decided_, I may as well take it to the limit. In for a penny..._

Slowly, by minute degrees, she increased her tempo, building herself up to a plateau as her breath quickened. She stayed at the edge for an agonizingly long time, but was unable to reach beyond it. She nearly sobbed with frustration.

Will made a sudden movement in his sleep, almost a twitch, which caused him to twist towards Rogue and settle against her. Fortunately, the fabric around his head twisted with him, covering his face. The movement, however, was enough to help Rogue past the edge. Her entire body tensed for a moment, and she had to bite her lip to avoid making any noise. A few seconds later, she relaxed, sinking deeply into the mattress with a sigh.

She looked at Will, who now had the covered half of his face comfortably nestled against her bosom, and smiled blissfully. _I should probably feel guilty about that_, she mused, _but I feel too damn **good** right now to worry about it_. She shifted her head to a comfortable position on the pillow and started to fall back asleep. Before she did so, however, she wrapped her arms around Will, drawing him close to her again, and kissed the top of his covered head.

* * *

Matt Adams' day was rapidly going downhill. 

He had a personal rule against lying to a buyer, based more in a desire to avoid lawsuits than any moral imperative, but he had no problem with embellishing the truth somewhat to make a sale. He had encountered sharp customers in the past, and thought of himself as adept in the art of creative distraction.

This couple, however, was in a class of their own. Every time he sang the praises of the van, the man would either open the hood or crawl under the car and respectfully correct Adams:

"She's got a brand new muffler!"

"Actually, sir, I see quite a bit of corrosion. Also, the shocks seem to be a bit worn."

"Er... well, the engine's been totally rebuilt!"

"Using a secondhand distributor cap, I noticed. What were you asking for it?"

Adams quoted a price, and the couple looked at one another. "You can do better than _that_," the woman said to him.

"What if I drop that by ten percent?" Adams asked desperately. That wouldn't give him his usual profit margin, he realized, but he felt that he absolutely _had_ to make the sale.

"Take off another two hundred and we'll pay in cash," the man countered.

"Deal," Adams declared. "Give me a few minutes to draw up the papers." He almost ran back to his office.

"Did you do anything to him?" Henry asked Jean in a low voice once he was sure that Adams was out of earshot.

"Not directly," she admitted, "but I _did_ sort of increase his determination to make a sale. Don't worry, he still made a good profit. Do you think this thing will get us back to Salem Center?"

"It's in very good condition, actually. I don't foresee any difficulties. Do you want to drive twenty-four hours, or stop for the night?"

"I think that it'll be better for Will and Rogue if we take it easy. If we can get in fourteen hours of driving per day, I'll be happy. If our money holds out... and I don't see why it won't... we may stop for a day or so in Chicago. I've never been there for anything that wasn't an emergency, and I'd like the chance to see the city."

Henry nodded. "It sounds like a workable plan." He glanced at his watch. "Why don't we gather everyone together after we finish here, check out of the motel, have a big lunch, then set out and drive until the pleas to stop become intolerable?"

"I like it."

* * *

Ororo soared on the desert winds high above the town, keeping herself at an altitude which would prevent anyone from seeing her with the naked eye. She hadn't planned on flying while they were on the trip, but the motel room that she shared with Jean was becoming a bit too confining for her, and she needed to spend some time in the sky before sitting in a car again. 

**_Ororo_**, Jean's voice echoed in her head, **_we got a van. We should be ready to leave after lunch_**.

_Thank you, Jean. I will awaken Will and Rogue_. She began her descent back down towards an isolated area outside of the town. A few minutes later, she walked back towards the motel.

* * *

_Knock-knock._

The sound of someone on the other side of the door caused Will to stir. He yawned and blearily opened his eyes.

He was wide awake about two seconds later, when the proper neurons in his brain fired, and his eyes bugged out as he realized that he was staring at Rogue's bare chest. He rolled backwards, right off the bed, and landed with an unceremonious _thump_ on the floor.

The noise woke Rogue up, and she sat up in the bed, then grabbed two pillows and covered herself with them as she blushed bright red.

_Knock-knock._

"Get in the bathroom, quick!" he hissed to her. She did so, backing out of the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Will grabbed his jeans and shirt and threw them on. He then took a few deep breaths to calm himself and opened the door.

"Yes, Ororo?" he asked, faking a yawn.

"We have a vehicle now," she told him. "We will be leaving immediately after lunch, so it would be best if we were ready to settle accounts with the motel within the hour."

"All right. We'll meet you at the diner in half an hour. Who checked us in?"

"Jean."

"We'll give her the keys at the diner, then. She can handle checkout while we're waiting for our meals."

Ororo nodded. "Where is Rogue?"

"She's in the bathroom."

"Very well. We will meet you at the diner."

Will nodded and shut the door, collapsing against it in relief as he locked it. He then quickly finished dressing, making sure to put on his gloves. He glanced through the room for a moment, and gathered Rogue's clothes from the chair where she had evidently placed them before going to bed.

Stepping up to the bathroom door, he placed the clothes right next to the base of the jamb. "Your, uh... your clothes are right outside the door," he said in a voice which cracked slightly. He hurried back to his bed and sat down, facing away from the bathroom. A few seconds later, he heard the door open, then shut again. The shower started about a minute after that.

Will spent the next several minutes folding up his uniform and placing it inside one of the shopping bags that Jean had left in their room. He pulled his wallet out of his uniform pants and placed it in the back pocket of his jeans. He debated about what to do with his pistol, finally deciding on removing the clip and spare, placing them and the pistol in separate bags and covering them with clothes. The only thing that he could do with his sword was wrap it up in his coat. Just as he finished, he heard the water shut off. He sat back down on the bed and waited quietly.

Rogue emerged from the bathroom, her hair tied back with a rubber band. Her face and ears were still a bit pink. "You're not going to tell anybody about this, are you?" she asked him.

"Of course not!" he told her indignantly. "First, it's nobody's business but ours. Second, how would I find the words?"

Rogue couldn't help smiling at that.

As they walked towards the diner, she linked her arm with his. "You think you're up to the trip?"

He nodded. "I'll rest most of the time. You can dust me off when mealtime rolls around."

"Wonderful," she sighed. "I've finally become a mother."

"Does that mean I'll get a spanking if I'm bad?" he asked with a wicked smile.

"I might spank you if you're _good_."

"For _free_?"

"Quit it," she told him cheerfully, giving him a light swat across the top of his head. "We're in public."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said meekly as he opened the front door to the diner and ushered her through.

"Hi, you two," Bobby said in greeting as they sat down in his booth. "Feeling better?"

"A bit," Will replied. "Did anybody order yet?"

"We thought it best to wait until you arrived," Ororo said from the booth across from them, where she sat with Jean, Henry, and Strange.

Rogue nodded and took a menu from the rack on the table. "I think I'll have the chicken club sandwich," she decided after a moment.

"And since I finally have my appetite back," Will declared, "I'm probably best off with the all-you-can-eat option." He glanced at the menu for a moment. "I think I'll go with the roast turkey."

"Do you want to get the soup and salad bar again?" Bobby asked.

"Not a bad idea," he agreed.

The waitress appeared a few minutes later, and they all placed their orders. "Tell me, Stephen," Will asked after they were alone again, "Now that you've seen the mutant metabolism in action, have you formed any opinions?"

"Well, I'm considering the idea that it all goes into a pocket dimension."

"We're not _that_ bad," Jean said in a chiding tone.

"You ladies aren't, no, but I'm becoming convinced that if Hank were left to his own devices, he could single-handedly wipe out a species or two."

Hank snorted. "You can't fuel eight hundred pounds of muscle with diet shakes."

"Point taken," Strange said with a smile. "I promise to refrain from bottomless pit jokes for the rest of the trip."

"We tried putting him on that diet with the shakes once," Bobby joked. "We couldn't find an oil drum-sized glass, though."

"That's brave talk," Strange observed, "considering that you have to fall asleep in the man's presence eventually."

"Don't worry about it, Stephen," Jean assured him. "They started joking with one another five minutes after they met, and I doubt it's ever going to end. I'd probably miss it if it did."

"It makes the rest of us feel a little more grown up," Rogue added. "We can always tell ourselves, 'Well, at least we're not as bad as those two'."

"It's so nice to know that I'm a baseline for aberrant behavior," Henry said as he leaned on one hand. "It makes me feel special."

"Is there anything else that we need to get before we leave?" Will asked.

"Well," Jean thought out loud, "we got munchies, water, books and magazines, and a few tapes to play during the trip, since I'm not about to listen to country music all the way to Chicago. Any other ideas?"

"You might want to consider getting some pillows and blankets," he suggested. "Even if we trade off on the driving, we're all going to get tired from watching the road roll by. And I guarantee that _I'm_ going to need to conk out every once in a while."

"It's a good idea, Jean," Henry agreed. "I want Rogue to get some extra rest as well. We will simply have three people in one of the bench seats from time to time."

"Okay. We'll hit the general store when we're done here."

"And I'll stop off at the drugstore to get a sleep mask," Will added. "With the way the sun is out here, I'm going to need it."

* * *

After they finished lunch, everyone split up for about half an hour. Jean and Ororo purchased some light sheets and two pillows at the general store, while Will and Rogue spent time in the drugstore, where he bought a sleep mask, a notebook, and some pens. 

"Planning on getting some writing done?" she asked him from behind his shoulder.

"Maybe. We'll definitely have the time, and I'm not planning on sleeping twenty-four hours a day. Besides, my agent's going to start foaming at the mouth if I don't send something to her soon."

"When's the last time you were published?"

"I had a short story included in an anthology about two years ago. I think I want to do something a bit more challenging this time around."

"You have any ideas yet?"

"I'm running some concepts around in my head, but I haven't decided what genre to work in yet."

"Want to bounce some ideas off me?"

"I think I want to let them cook a while first. Once I finally get started, I usually get the whole thing done pretty quickly. Tell you what... you can read the whole thing once it's complete. You'll get to see it before my publisher does."

"Ooh," she breathed, widening her eyes, "I get a sneak preview?"

He nodded. "Of course, that will be _before_ my editor tears it to shreds." He shook his head. "I really shouldn't say that. They've been very good to me."

"When is it due?"

"About three months from now."

"You're going to write an entire novel in three months?"

"It's not as hard as it sounds. Before I even put pen to paper, I have a basic outline of the plot in my head, from beginning to end. I write everything out by hand, one chapter at a time. That first draft is revised when I type it into my word processor. I e-mail everything to my publisher, usually a few hours before the deadline."

"Is it always last minute?"

"I've found that I do my best work at the last minute. The pressure of a looming deadline helps kick my brain into high gear."

"Sounds stressful."

"It is," he admitted, "but it keeps things from getting boring."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said in a mocking tone, "have we made life too predictable for you lately?"

"I think I can live with some normality for a little while," he replied blandly.

* * *

"Everybody set?" Jean asked once they had all wandered back to the van. 

"Did we all go to the little boys and girls rooms?" Bobby added in an exuberant voice.

"Are you absolutely _sure_ that we can't leave him here?" Strange pleaded.

"That isn't an option, I'm afraid," Ororo sighed. "The doctors say that he has to be kept under close supervision."

"You have his medication, don't you Hank?" Jean asked.

"One whack across the head, administered as needed," Henry intoned.

Strange laughed. "You know, I thought that this would be a somber trip, but I don't think that I've relaxed this much in a long time."

"We aim to please," Rogue told him with a smile.

"But we shoot to kill," Will added.

"And on _that_ note," Ororo said as she rolled her eyes, "all aboard."

"I'm driving," Henry announced.

"I'm nervous," Jean replied. "Please drive forwards this time."

"Okay, if you want to do it the _boring_ way."

"Please... let's do it the boring way," Will asked. "I've had enough excitement over the past few days to last for a while. Boredom, dullness and monotony sound very appealing right now."

"Good," Jean said, tossing a pillow to him. "You can stretch out on the back seat. And _you_ take the middle one," she told Rogue as she handed her the other pillow and a sheet.

"I call shotgun!" Bobby yelled as he scrambled into the front passenger seat.

"Which means that I'm forced to sit between two beautiful women," Strange sighed. "Poor me."

It took about two minutes for everyone to get comfortable. Rogue stretched out on her seat, placing her pillow against the side wall of the van and letting her feet hang over the other end of the seat. Will tucked his sheet around himself and curled up slightly, pulling his sleep mask over his eyes and turning so that he faced the back of the seat.

"Ignition in ten," Henry counted. "Nine…. eight…. seven…."

"_Get on with it!_" the others yelled.

"And awaaay we go."

* * *

Seven hours later, Bobby pulled into the parking lot of a truck stop. "Mealtime!" he announced as he cut the engine. 

An assortment of moans and grumbles answered him as the others piled out of the van "I think I'll get the name of the nearest motel," Jean said as she leaned back and stretched. "We've been cooped up enough for one day."

"I second the motion," Strange added. "Any opposed?"

"Hard to say," Bobby admitted. "Two of our voters aren't exactly present."

Ororo glanced towards the back of the van, where both Rogue and Will still slept. Will had turned over at some point, and his face – the portion of it not covered by the mask, at least – was now visible. His mouth was creased into a small frown which could almost be called a pout.

Rogue was still lying on her back, and had an expression on her face which was almost identical to Will's. The others watched, fascinated, as the two of them moved in almost perfect tandem while still asleep, turning onto their left sides.

"Are they psi-linked, Jean?" Henry asked.

Jean concentrated for a moment. "Not exactly. It's more like they're…." She paused, searching for the right word. "….Synchronized. They're acting independently, but I think it's to the same stimuli."

Strange pulled at his goatee as he thought. "Interesting. That leads to some speculations."

"Such as?" Henry asked.

"Let me see something first." He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and ran it across the sole of Rogue's right foot. As she drew it back, Will mirrored her actions.

Bobby whistled. "Wow. That's almost creepy. Maybe we should just leave them alone. We might hurt them if we wake them up."

"Not if we do it gently," Strange disagreed. "Right now they're in a state that's similar to a shared trance. Which one of them is easier to wake up?"

"Rogue," Ororo supplied.

"Could you do so. then…. slowly, please?"

Ororo nodded and shook one of Rogue's feet gently. "Rogue? We've stopped for dinner. Time to get up."

Rogue and Will both shifted their heads upwards, passing their right hands over their faces. Ororo shook Rogue's foot again, a bit more firmly. "Rogue, wake up."

The two sleepyheads opened their eyes and stretched, arching their backs and yawning at the same time, resulting in a curious dual tone. Rogue sat up first. "What time is it?"

"Just after eight," Jean replied.

"You let me sleep for seven straight hours? I'll be up all night now!"

"Don't bet on it," Will yawned as he put on his shoes. "Your body wouldn't have let you go that long if it hadn't needed the time to repair itself. You'll be up for four hours or so, then you'll start to drift off again."

Rogue shrugged at that, then winced as the movement caused a twinge of pain in her shoulder. "Hank, you might want to give me a once-over before we all turn in. I still feel a bit sore."

"All right," Henry agreed. "How do you feel, Will?"

"Physically, I'm fine, outside of still being tired. That probably reflects the fact that my nerves are still shot, and that I'm feeling _really_ unbalanced right now. I think that I'm going to have to go deep into the Chorus for a few hours to get myself centered again."

"How are your power levels?" Strange asked.

"Pretty high…. and that's part of the problem. Normally, I'd just lower my shields and let my mind drift for a while, but right now I'd probably trip a circuit breaker and cause a blackout. I don't even want to think about what would happen to the van."

"Don't worry about it," Strange said. "I set up some barriers while you were asleep. Anything within one hundred feet of you should be safe, unless you're actually concentrating on shorting it out."

"In that case," Will said as he stepped out of the van, "let's eat." He offered his hand to Rogue, who smiled and took it, slipping her sneakers on as she stepped down. "What are our choices for dinner?"

"There's a regular diner," Jean told him. "We also have a Tex-Mex place and a McBurgers. The Tex-Mex place has music tonight."

"McBurgers sounds good to me," Rogue said. "I don't think I could handle a room full of singing cowboys right now."

* * *

"Okay, that's fifteen double cheeseburgers, five chicken sandwiches, eleven jumbo fries, and seven mega-size Cokes. Anything else?" 

Jean looked at the total. "No. I think we just justified your opening for the day. Can I have a receipt, please?" She, Bobby and Strange took the trays and brought them back to the tables where the others sat. "Here you go," she said to Will as she handed him the receipt.

Will took it, but gave her a confused look. "Why would I want this?"

"To keep track of how much of your money we're spending?"

His reply was a snort. "Like I care. Jean, you couldn't even _begin_ to make an impact on my finances. If you run out of cash, just tell me and I'll either get more wired to me or switch to plastic. So go ahead, all of you…. use me, abuse me, chip away at my credit rating. I can take it!"

"My God," Henry moaned, "we've taken in a masochist."

"Doesn't that mean that it would be crueler to _not_ abuse him?" Bobby asked.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, Jean?"

"Shut up and eat."

"Yes, Ma'am."

They divided up the food and ate. Will discussed their timetable with Jean. "I think we can hit Chicago in another two days," she told him. "We might have to push it near the end, though."

Will thought about that for a moment. "It might be a good idea to factor in an extra day. Let's face it, unexpected events have a tendency to land in our laps. I'd rather pay for another night at a Howard Johnson's than lose a suite of reserved rooms at the Drake."

Ororo nodded. "Good idea. Can you make those reservations now?"

"I'll take care of it as soon as we check in."

"That reminds me," Jean said. "I wanted to ask you if you'd mind if we spend two or three days in Chicago. I thought it would be nice to just sightsee."

"No, I don't mind. Actually, I'll make a pretty good guide."

"You've lived there?" Rogue asked with some surprise.

"I got my counseling degree at U. of C., worked at one of the better restaurants as a chef's assistant, and cut my teeth as an investor there."

"Do you still have a place in the city?"

He shook his head. "The rents are too ridiculous."

"What would you suggest as tourist stops?" Henry inquired.

"The usual places…. the Sears Tower, Wrigley Field and Kominisky Park, the Field Museum, the Navy Pier, the Frank Lloyd Wright tour. And then, of course, there's the Million Dollar Mile."

"What's that?"

"It's a long row of very ritzy shops. Matter of fact, I think we might stop there before we check into the hotel. If we're going the grand tour, then we're doing it in style."

"Well, I suppose that we can endure it," Ororo said with a straight face.

"Are you sure? I can change our reservations to a Motel 6 if you want."

"That's all right," Jean said hurriedly. "We think that your plan will work just fine."

"Okay, if you insist." He folded up the wrappers to his burgers and stuffed them into the fries box. "I'll go check us in and make the reservations. I'll be back as soon as I'm done."

"You'll be at the place down the road that the waitress told us about?"

"Right. I shouldn't be long." He picked up his trash, tossing it into the wastebasket and getting a refill for his drink on the way out.

"He seems to be doing a lot better," Henry noted.

"The rest that he got was a big help," Rogue informed them.

Strange looked at her closely for a moment. "Would you be opposed to telling us just what you were dreaming about? You and Will were linked very closely. I don't want to pry, but it might give me an insight into the nature of his powers."

Rogue sat back in her chair and thought for a few moments. "It was a lot like the dream that a few of us had the night I caused Will's…. accident."

"I was drifting through a dark, warm place, with music and whispering all around me. I guess it was like what a baby feels in the womb. I felt calm, safe…. complete."

"After a while, things started to change. Instead of floating, I felt like I was sort of drifting along with a current, and I knew that I had a specific place to go to. I turned so that I could see what was in front of me, and after a while I saw something up ahead.

"It was a huge tube, as straight as a ruler. It looked like it was made of some kind of dark, glossy stone, but it had a sort of organic appearance at the same time. It went as far up and down as I could see."

"Were there any entrances?" Strange asked.

"No…. and that started to worry me after a while, because I was getting closer and closer to it. I wasn't going too fast, though, so I sort of flipped over so that I'd land on my feet. I figured I'd be able to stop myself."

"And did you?"

"Yeah, for about ten seconds. I took a few steps, and then I started to sink into the stone."

"Were you frightened at all?"

"That's the weird thing. I know I should have been scared out of my mind, but I felt completely safe. The stone was warm and thick, but wasn't sticky at all. I could feel my feet hit air again, so I knew that I wasn't going to drown."

"Another question," Strange said, interrupting her, "and it may seem a bit odd. Were you wearing anything?"

She thought for a few moments, trying to remember. "To be honest, I don't know. Is that important?"

"It might be, depending on what happened later. Go on."

"Well, to be honest, sinking through the stone felt almost…. sensuous. It felt like I was getting a full body massage in just a few seconds. I closed my eyes once my head started going through, and didn't open them again until I felt my hair was free. When I did open them, I was inside the tube, and I was looking at a huge library, about twenty feet across, shaped like a circle, and stretching up and down as far as I could see. Shelves and shelves of books were on the walls, as far as I could see. The noise was a lot quieter, too."

"By this point, I had figured out that I was dreaming, and I also figured that Will was somewhere nearby. The moment that I thought about finding him, I started to float up. I was going pretty slowly at first, but I picked up speed really quick, and soon I was really zooming past the shelves. After a few minutes, I started to slow down, and I could see something above me.

"It was a wooden desk, made of stained redwood, I think. It was one of those kinds that have two sections that fold out and have lots of compartments inside them. I was seeing it from the bottom at first, but I leveled out with it after a few seconds. There was an old-fashioned lamp, with a green shade, floating right next to it. There was an old-fashioned wall clock that wasn't attached to any wall. It was just floating in the air, ticking. It didn't have any hands or numbers on its face. All it did was tick.

"Will was sitting in a chair, leaning back in it with his feet on the desk. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a grey turtleneck."

"Did he notice you?" Bobby asked.

"If he did, he didn't say anything. He just sat there, reading the book that was in his lap. I decided not to bother him, so I just sat down and listened to the music. After a while, the ticking of the clock relaxed me enough that I sort of blanked out for a while. The next thing I knew, you were waking me up."

"Rogue, what you just described is exactly how Will described the Chorus to Charles and me," Jean informed her. "I think that you were actually experiencing, passively, what Will does when he goes deep inside the collective consciousness."

Rogue blinked, absorbing that information. "Wow. Do you think I was in any danger?"

"I'm not sure," Jean admitted. "It would depend on whether you got there on your own or piggybacked onto Will's dream."

"I'll ask him about it later. Right now, I want to finish my food before it gets cold."

Will returned about fifteen minutes later, and they all got back in the van and went to the motel. "You get your own room from here on, Stephen," Will said as he handed the magician a key.

"Thanks. Any reason why?"

"Let's just say that I don't think that I go well with condiments." Jean, Ororo, and Rogue laughed, but the men just looked confused.

* * *

**Authors Note**: I'm curious about something, and I would like the opinion of my readers. How do you picture Will Riley? Put another way, who would you like to see play him if _The Archetype Association_ was a movie? Please e-mail me if you have any ideas. Thanks. 


	39. Chapter 39

Will dropped the bags containing his uniform onto the table of the motel room as he, Rogue, and Henry entered. "Are you going to need the bathroom for anything, Hank?"

"No. I'm just going to check on the condition of her shoulder. It should only take a few minutes."

Will nodded. "Just let me know when you're done." He closed the bathroom door behind him. A moment later, the bathroom fan activated as he turned on the light.

Henry put on some rubber gloves as Rogue removed her shirt and sat in a chair, flipping it around so that she faced the back. She held still and followed Henry's instructions, stretching out her arm and rotating her shoulder. "It doesn't hurt the same way it did before," she noted.

"More stiff than sore, right?" She nodded. "That's probably because you were sleeping in one position for so long. I'd advise a shower. Make it as hot as you can stand and stay under it for a long time. That should loosen up the muscles."

"Okay. Anything else?" she asked as she put her shirt back on.

"I think I'm going to ask Will to help out by applying some therapeutic massage to the area. It was Jean's idea," he said upon seeing the look Rogue gave him. "Since Will still blames himself, to some degree, for your injury, assisting you in your recovery may be of some help psychologically." He stepped over to the bathroom door and tapped on it lightly.

"Not a bad idea," she conceded. "But we didn't bring a dampening collar."

"For what?" Will asked as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Henry outlined his therapy plans for Rogue, tactfully glossing over the aspects which applied to Will. "Do you foresee any problems?"

Will considered it for a moment. "No. Do you think a sitting or prone position would be more effective? If she's lying down, I could apply a bit more pressure."

"Good point. Use the prone position. Actually, if you do it that way, you could use a bed sheet as a barrier. You wouldn't have to wear gloves."

Will pressed his hands against the mattress of the bed nearest to him. "I think the mattress is firm enough that we can use the bed instead of the floor."

Henry nodded. "I'm going to bed. I've still got eyestrain from driving."

"Try putting a warm washcloth over your eyes for a few minutes," Will suggested. "That usually helps me a bit when I feel like my eyes are about to fall out of my head and roll across the floor."

"I'll give it a shot. Good night."

"Mind if I hit the shower first?" Will asked after Henry had left. "I'll be in and out, and then you can use as much of the hot water as you want."

"Okay," she agreed. "What will you wear once you get out?"

He frowned. "I didn't even think about that. I'll knock on Stephen's door and see if he can conjure up an extra outfit or two for me. Be right back."

* * *

"Do you have anything particular in mind?" Strange asked him a minute later.

Will thought for a moment. "How about a powder blue denim shirt, black jeans, and black Rockports? These boots are starting to hurt."

"All right," Strange agreed. "I'll add a few pairs of briefs, some white socks, and some plain T-shirts. Do navy, grey, and black sound good?"

"Perfect. Could you give them pockets?"

"No problem. I think that maroon pajamas will work, and we'll make the robe navy blue."

"You have very good fashion sense, Stephen."

"I've been conjuring up my own clothes for years. You pick up a knack for it after a while. Let Rogue know that I'll whip up a few outfits for her if she likes."

"And take away the pleasure of shopping? Perish the thought."

* * *

"Nice outfit," Rogue said as Will walked out of the bathroom, dressed in the pajamas.

"Thanks. I like the color, actually. Stephen made a good choice. You can use one of the T-shirts as a nightshirt if you want." He tossed the robe to her.

"I'll think about it," she said as she stood up. "Why don't you nudge the beds together while I'm in there? I'll probably be a while."

"Okay. Remember, make it as hot as hell."

"Right." The bathroom door shut.

Will sat down in the chair, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He was feeling much better, but he still tired very easily. _I hope I recover enough before Chicago to play tour guide like I promised._

After stretching for a moment, wincing as he heard various joints in his body crack and pop, he stood up and pushed the two beds together, removing the top sheets and spreading one out so that it lay across the two mattresses. He folded the other sheet into quarters and placed it at the foot of the bed. After digging through one of the bags that he had brought in, he took his notebook and a pen, and started to jot down some ideas for his novel.

Will knew that he tended to lose track of time when he was brainstorming, so he was not really surprised when the bathroom door opened after what seemed to be only a few minutes. "Feel any better?" he asked as he wrote down one last, fleeting thought.

"Much," she replied in a contented voice. "Just give me a second so I can tie my hair back." She spent a few seconds arguing silently with the rubber band.

"Okay." He finished writing and closed the notebook. "All set?" he asked, turning around.

"All set," she told him as his jaw dropped and his heart skipped several beats.

The rubber band was all she was wearing.

"Is something wrong?" she asked in an innocent voice.

Will tried to answer, but found that he was temporarily robbed of the ability to speak coherently.

"Shush," she whispered. She stepped up to him and knelt down, propping her elbows on his knees and cradling her face in her hands. She looked straight into his eyes, and he looked into hers, mostly because they were the only part of her that he could watch without blushing bright red.

"I haven't told you yet how much what you said in the desert meant to me. For a long time, I didn't think that anybody could love me or want me for who I was, powers and all. But when you told me that you loved me, and the way I made you feel, I realized that I can have a relationship that doesn't revolve around my power. I may not be able to have everything that an ordinary woman has, but I can have _something_. And I know that whatever that something is, I want to discover it with you.

"Now," she instructed him as she stood back up, "stop blushing. I want you to take a good look at me. And no switching your vision to the infrared, either. I'm not embarrassed about showing you my body, and there's no reason why you should be."

Will obeyed, looking closely at her. After a short time, he became more comfortable, and found that he was able to appreciate Rogue's body on an aesthetic level. "How did you get that scar on your breastbone?" he asked.

She traced the white mark lightly with one finger. "That happened right after I joined the team. I was blocking an energy blast that was meant for Logan and his fiancée, Lady Mariko. I would have died if Logan hadn't made me absorb his healing factor."

"That's one that I owe Logan, then." He stood up, circling her, and she was suddenly struck by the parallels to the dream which she had experienced less than two days ago.

After about a minute, which he spent studying her closely, Will sat back down. "I'm going to have to see if the Chorus can teach me to paint or draw," he said quietly. "You deserve to be immortalized somehow."

She blushed. "Maybe we should take care of my shoulder now."

He nodded. "Lie down on your stomach, and I'll cover you with the other sheet." She did so, and a few seconds later, the top sheet billowed above her and settled over her body as he spread it out. Rogue tucked the ends under her feet and head so that it would stay in place.

Will lowered the lights in the room, then knelt at head of the bed where the upper half of her body lay. "Can you breathe okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

He didn't say anything further, but after a moment, she felt his hands touch her injured shoulder through the sheet. He started lightly massaging the shoulder blade with his thumbs, making small circles. "I'm going to slowly increase the pressure," he informed her. "I want to see if I can loosen up the knots that are in the muscles. I doubt that I can hurt you, since your invulnerability seems to be at full strength, but let me know if it gets to be too uncomfortable."

"Okay," she murmured. She quickly relaxed, letting herself fall into a light trance as he kneaded her shoulder and collarbone. Within a few minutes, the stiffness in the area began to fade away, and her arm was soon hanging limply off her shoulder as the muscles began to feel like overcooked vermicelli.

Will stopped massaging her shoulder, but did not remove his hands. "Does that feel any better?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Wonderful," she replied, "but why did you stop? You've got a lot more area to cover, buster. I want the full treatment."

To her surprise, he chuckled. "As my lady commands," he said in a formal tone. He moved his hands to the back of her neck, where he stroked the muscles on either side of her vertebrae, then caressed the sides of her neck with his fingers. Moving back down, he treated her other shoulder with the same attention that he had shown the injured one. He slowly moved down her arm, paying special attention to her bicep and tricep, then applied firm pressure to her wrist and hand, bending her fingers back slightly and rubbing his thumbs into the palm. Moving back up her arm, she crossed his hands over her shoulders again, then kneaded her other arm, taking care to avoid stretching the muscles too much.

Moving back up to her neck, he made a 'peace' sign with both hands, placing the extended fingers on either side of her spine, and drew them down, one after the other, alternating so that he never lost contact with her back. After several of these strokes, he brought his hands down to the base of her hips, where he firmly traced the outline of her tailbone with his thumbs. Moving down, he bypassed her hips, and began a series of slow, gentle caresses on the insides of her upper legs, starting just above the knee and gradually working his way up.

"If you move any higher," Rogue warned, "one of us is going to have a problem. We'll either be unconscious or really, really frustrated."

Will chuckled. "Duly noted." After a few moments of kneading her buttocks with squeezes that reminded her of a baker making bread dough, he bent down, kissing her lightly at the nape of her neck. "Time to turn over." She did so, and after taking a moment to make sure that the sheet was still in place, Will gave her a very thorough scalp massage, moving his fingers in small circles which relieved tensions that Rogue didn't even know were there. He moved her head from side to side, treating the whole of her scalp, then massaged the small bones just behind her ears. He drew his hands up, lightly massaging her temples, then making small circles on her forehead and firmly rubbing the bridge of her nose. He placed his hands on her collarbone, with the fingers pointing towards one another, and slowly slid his hands down her chest and stomach, moving his hands to her sides and drawing them back up, towards her shoulders, where he moved back towards the center of her chest. He repeated this series of strokes four more times, tickling the sides of her ribs slightly on the last pass.

Rogue squirmed and giggled. "Stop that."

"Aha!" Will said with an evil smile. "The lady is ticklish. This offers some possibilities."

"Don't even think about it."

Will laughed. "Bend your knees a little." She did so, and he made wide circles across her abdomen, slowly reducing the size of the area covered, then widening it again. Moving back up, he made several figure eight passes around the muscles which supported her breasts.

Rogue purred when he did that. "That feels fantastic."

"Really?" he asked. "How about this?" He concentrated on one breast, placing both thumbs on the nipple, then moving them down towards the edge. He repeated the process three times, tracing a star pattern. A moment later, her repeated the process on her other breast. Rogue didn't say anything, but did arch her back in response.

Lightly moving his fingers down her body, Will circled the edges of her kneecaps with his thumbs, then gently rubbed the muscles on the backs of her knees. Tracing his way down her legs, he made a fist with one hand and gently dug into the soles of her feet with the knuckles. He ended the massage with one light stroke, which started at her toes and followed the contours of her body all the way up to her face, where he gently pressed his lips to hers through the sheet. "All done," he told her in a soft voice.

Rogue stretched, letting a low, satisfied growl escape from her throat. "He followed me home, Mom. Can I keep him?"

Will lightly scratched her belly. "You've already got my heart, _halainn_,"

She poked her head out from under the sheet. "What was that last word?"

He smiled. "It's Gaelic. It means _beautiful_."

She returned his smile as she rolled onto her side so that she could see him. "That's nice," she sighed. She arched her neck in an effort to see the clock, but couldn't quite make it. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

"That massage took over an hour?" she asked incredulously.

"You were so relaxed for a while there that you were almost asleep. That tends to skew your internal clock a little. Besides, when you don't have to worry about deadlines, schedules, or things to do, who cares how long things take?"

"Scott would have a stroke if he heard you say that."

Will snorted derisively. "Scott is a man in serious need of a colonic enema."

Rogue had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. "Where's that T-shirt?"

He stood up and walked over to the table, where he had placed the wardrobe that Strange had made for him. "What color do you want?" he asked, holding up the shirts.

"Which one do you think you'll wear tomorrow?"

"Probably the grey one."

"I'll take that one, then. Can you wear one of the others under your pajama top?"

"Sure, but why?"

"I'll wear it in the morning. I like the idea of our being able to smell each other's scents for a while tomorrow."

Will grinned and tossed her the shirt. A few seconds later, they were both ready for bed. "Whose turn is it to cover up?" Will asked. "I've lost track."

"I'll do it." She wrapped herself up in one of the top sheets. Will curled up beside her a moment later and pulled a light blanket over them both as he shut off the light.

Neither of them said anything for quite some time, choosing instead to simply enjoy one another's company. Rogue turned over so that she faced him and slid down the mattress a little, cradling her head against his chest. "Will?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"If I could control my powers…. If I were a normal woman…."

"Hey," he said sternly, "don't you talk like that. You are not defined by your power. You have a problem…. a problem that we're going to learn how to deal with, together. That does _not_ make you abnormal."

"I know," she assured him. "I just forgot it for a while. You've helped me to remember it. But if my powers weren't a problem, would you be acting any differently?"

"Not a bit," he said without hesitation. He stroked her back with his free hand. "We've got something special starting here, and we have plenty of time to learn about one another and become closer. But I already know one thing. I have absolute faith that you'll work your way through your problems eventually, and I'm willing to wait as long as that takes." He embraced her tightly. "It took me a long time to find you…. to find someone I could open up to, trust, and love. I'm not about to give you up without a fight, and I'll annihilate anyone who tries to hurt you or come between us."

He fell silent for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts, but was brought out of his reverie when he felt Rogue shaking underneath him. He glanced down at her. "Hey, are you okay?" he whispered. "Why are you crying?"

"Please," she begged, as tears which mixed frustration and joy flowed down her face, "don't talk. Just hold me. Dream with me. Let me hope."

Eventually lulled to sleep by one another's warmth, feeling one another's hearts beat, they held tightly to one another in the darkness.

* * *

Rogue awoke first, finding that she had rolled away from Will at some point during the night. The clock beside the bed told her that it was just after six in the morning. The sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, and the eighteen wheelers were starting out on their runs.

She slowly sat up, taking care not to awaken Will, and got out of bed. Slithering out of the sheet, which was still wrapped around her, she stood up straight and stretched, discovering to her delight that her shoulder felt much better. Moving it around experimentally, she found that she had almost full mobility. Smiling, she threw off her T-shirt and walked into the shower.

The sound of running water had its traditional effect on Will, and he slowly roused himself. He opened his eyes, and was momentarily confused when he discovered that Rogue was not next to him. After a few seconds, his brain's operating system booted up, and he was able to put sound and sight together and come to a conclusion:

_Figures, _he thought with a sleepy smile_. We just started getting serious, and she's already monopolizing the bathroom._

After one or two false starts, he was able to sit up, scratching at his emerging beard. "Hope I get used to this itching soon," he muttered to himself. Standing up, he walked over to the chair and plopped back down, burying his face in his hands.

_Okay, you're out of bed_, he thought. _Now if you can shower and get dressed, you'll be all set to pretend that you're awake. _

After a few minutes, the water in the shower shut off, and Rogue walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. "Good morning," she said cheerfully as she brushed her hair back.

"Morning," he replied with a bleary smile. "How do you feel?"

"Great," she told him, beaming. "How about you?"

"Can I hold off on answering until I've had a shower and some caffeine?"

"Sure. Can I have my shirt?"

He looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded in comprehension. "Oh. Sure." He unbuttoned his pajama top, removing it, then pulled off his blue T-shirt and tossed it to her. "Here you go."

"Thanks." She looked at him closely for a moment. "Your scar's almost gone," she noted.

"I think this is about as good as it's going to get. I usually have some reminder of a major injury, especially if there's an emotional association to go with it."

"And that association would be seeing me get hurt?"

He nodded, then yawned. "I'd better take that shower now, before I fall back asleep."

"I slept like a baby."

"I told you you'd sleep through the night."

"True, but I'm usually not up this early…. at least not willingly." She searched through the bag that held her clothes and pulled out a clean set of underwear. Throwing aside the towel, she slipped into the panties and bra. Will, to her disappointment, didn't even bat an eye. "I was hoping I could at least make you do a double take," she complained.

"You were too obvious about it. I could tell what you were planning." He stood up and walked into the bathroom. His pajama bottoms flew out a moment later, and she heard the shower curtain open and close.

Will stared blearily at the dial which controlled the water flow to the shower, then tugged on it negligently.

"_Aiiiggghhh_!"

_Thud_.

Rogue rushed into the bathroom, where she found Will lying on the floor. "What happened?" she demanded.

He rolled over, looking up at her. "If we ever reach a point in our relationship where it's possible for us to shower together, we'll have to have a _long_ discussion beforehand on the difference between 'hot' and 'scalding'."

She cringed. "Are you okay?"

"I'll live. At least I'm awake now."

"I'm sorry. It's a little hard for me to feel differences in temperature because of my invulnerability." She reached into the shower and switched the water to something cooler. "See if that's any better."

He reached into the shower with one hand. "Much," he sighed as he stood up. "I should only be a few minutes." He stepped into the shower and grabbed the shampoo.

Five minutes later, after he had quickly scrubbed himself down, Will stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. Slipping into his clothes, he sniffed at his shirt before putting it on. "I doubt that I'll ever be as good as Logan," he told her, "but I bet I'd be able to find your clothes in a pile just from your scent. No one else could smell as delicious as you." He smiled as Rogue blushed.

Ten minutes later, they were in the diner. Rogue ordered a western omelet with black coffee, and Will ordered chicken fried steak with a Coke.

"Coke with breakfast?" Rogue asked him after the waitress had left.

"You get your caffeine your way, I get it my way. Be right back." He walked over to a stack of newspapers by the lunch counter and took a copy of _USA Today_, dropping a dollar in the honor can. "You want the Life section?" he asked her when he came back.

"Please." They buried themselves in the papers for a few minutes, and their meals soon arrived. Jean, Ororo, and the others entered just as Rogue was starting on her second cup of coffee. "You two are certainly up early," Henry observed.

"What did you expect?" Will shrugged. "We slept through most of yesterday."

"Good point. How's your shoulder?" he asked Rogue.

"It feels great. The heat and massage did wonders for it. I think that another one or two treatments could bring me back up to full strength."

Henry nodded. "It might be a good idea if you sat up while we were driving today. Lying on your side could aggravate the muscles again."

"Okay. I'd better get something to read, then." She polished off her coffee and wiped at her mouth with the napkin. "Coming?" she asked Will.

"Sure. Anybody want the paper?" he asked, holding it up.

"I'll take it," Strange said.

Will handed the paper to him and stood up. "I'd like some of my money, please, Jean."

Jean blinked a moment, then recovered. "Oh. Sure," she replied, as she picked up the purse she had purchased on their first day. "How much?"

"Forty should be enough. No, better add another twenty for breakfast. I assume you've been breaking up the larger bills whenever you could?"

She nodded. "I figured that we'll need small bills eventually," she told him as she handed him three twenties.

"Smart thinking." He took the bills and pocketed them. "Rendezvous at the van in an hour?"

"Sounds good. Have fun."

* * *

They found a small bookstore a few blocks away, and Rogue spent several minutes picking out some magazines and books to read, finally deciding on _Vogue_, _People_, _Entertainment Weekly_, and the latest Anne Rice novel. Will spent a bit longer at it, and walked up to the counter with a large stack of magazines. "Are you actually going to read all those?" she asked him.

He nodded. "These should keep me busy for a day or two."

"Let me see those." She leafed through the magazines. "_Money, GQ, Discover, Smithsonian, Psychology Today, Utne Reader, Gourmet, Guns, _and_ Guns & Ammo_?"

He shrugged. "I have a wide range of interests. You know that." He paid for their purchase.

"I didn't think it was _that_ wide," she said as they exited.

"The two gun magazines are for research. That Glock-7 that I'm carrying is useless against the people that we go up against. I want to get some ideas that I can run by Logan and Bishop when we get back about a replacement firearm. I want something that I can carry around when I'm not actually on a mission, just in case we're surprised, and something larger that I'd carry while I was in uniform…. maybe one of the more powerful air rifles, or something else that can fire tranquilizer darts."

"That's a good idea," she agreed. "At least you're trying to find ways to avoid killing people."

"It's more out of a sense of economy than any moral imperative," he admitted. "Sometimes, killing somebody is more trouble than it's worth, especially in our line of work. You drop one villain, and ten more show up next week screaming for revenge. Besides, I can always start loading the darts with poisons if I have to. I'm thinking of using the rifle because it's relatively silent."

"The pistol will do that, if you use a silencer."

He shook his head. "There ain't no such critter. Any gun that uses powder, even with a suppressor…. and that's what they really are, sound _suppressors_, not sound _silencers_…. is going to make a lot of noise, because the bullet is already going faster than the speed of sound. I'll add one to my pistol to reduce the noise, but I won't be able to mask it completely…. not unless I'm firing point-blank at my target, and at that range, I'm better off using my sword or daggers."

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

He was silent for a few moments as they neared the van. "I think that I've been going about things from the wrong angle, that's all." He put down the bag and sat down on the ground. "Since I joined the team, I've been doing most of my work out in the open…. but I'm starting to think that that's not where I can do the most good. I think that I can get more done, make more progress, if I start working from the grey areas, behind the scenes, in ways that would complement the things that the X-Men do out in the open."

She sat down beside him. "Like what?"

"Well, here's an example. We know that Mister Sinister is constantly working on his genetic research, and that most of his other activities are geared towards advancing that research. We also know that he's got bases all over the place, so destroying one or two of them isn't going to do us any good.

"What if we took it from another angle? We know the basics of what Sinister does, and between Henry, Xavier, and MacTaggart, we can make some educated guesses about what sort of things he needs to do his work. If we track purchases made from manufactures of those kinds of equipment and supplies, and see where they go, we might be able to discover where Sinister _is_, instead of where he _was_.

"We can also try to trip him up. Imagine what would happen to his plans if he found that the secret accounts that he finances all his work with were suddenly empty, or that a shipment of supplies that he needed was sent to another continent due to a 'computer error'. What if some of the spies and underlings that he has in various places suddenly started vanishing, or coming down with unfortunate illnesses? We could ruin some of his schemes without putting any of our people at risk."

"That strategy would work against the Hellfire Club, too," she supplied. "You were talking about getting a big financial stake in an industry. What if you made a few hostile takeovers of the companies that the Hellfire Club types own? They wouldn't have a way to hide what they were doing any more, and you'd pull the plug on a lot of their stunts, because they'd lose a big source of income, not to mention their political connections."

"My dear, you are a conniving, devious, and manipulative woman." He smiled evilly. "I like that."

She snorted. "I was raised by Mystique, remember? I just might let her know about some of your plans. Her opinion of you would skyrocket." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Sorry about what happened when she met you, by the way."

"That's okay. It's kind of nice to know that she's so protective of you."

"Overprotective, you mean."

"There's a thin line between the two. Most parents can't see for themselves when they've crossed it."

"Do you ever think about that?"

"About what?"

"Being a parent."

Will seemed surprised at the question. "Me, as a father?" He thought for a moment. "No, I haven't ever really thought about it. I don't think I'd make a good one."

"Why not?"

"I'm too inconsistent. A child needs stability in their life. I don't think I could provide that, not the way my life is right now."

"Will, we live a life where we could be killed on any given day. That's not exactly what you'd call stable."

"I'm talking about the little things. Think of it from a kid's point of view. Dad comes into your room one morning and tells you that your room is a pigsty, and that you'll be punished if you don't clean it today. Now, your room really doesn't look any different than it has for the past month. Why didn't he say anything before? The answer is that he's been too distracted to notice it before, but you're too young to understand that. So you really don't know what the rules are going to be from one day to the next. Once you add missed pick-ups, forgotten promises, and the feeling that you're being ignored because you have to repeat a lot of things, life becomes very hard for a child."

"I hadn't thought about any of that," she admitted. "I guess it _would_ be the little things that would trip us up."

"It always _is_ the little things that make life difficult from day to day. Think about it…. what would annoy you more: having a stack of bills to pay, or having a constant itch at that spot on your back that you just can't reach?"

She shivered. "I'll take the bills, thanks. While we're on the subject…."

"Of what? Bills?"

"No, silly. I've got an itch on my back, and my arm can't quite reach back that far yet."

"Oh. Lean forward a little." Once she did so, he took off his gloves and started scratching at her back with his fingernails. "Higher or lower?"

"A little higher…. now to the left…. right there." She sighed in relief. "Oh, thank you."

"No problem," he told her with a smile. "I can sympathize, believe me. One of my safe houses has a coat hook in the middle of one wall, just below chest level. I installed it one day when my back was driving me insane and I couldn't leave the house to buy a back scratcher."

She giggled, picturing his frustration. "Somehow, I see you as being a bit more dignified."

"Hardly," he snorted. "I'm a lazy, soft, decadent, sybaritic bum. I want good food, plenty of naps, hot baths, and constant pampering, with generous quantities of gourmet chocolate thrown in for good measure."

"You talk as if that's a bad thing," Henry said as he walked up to them.

"I thought it would be heresy among all you fitness buffs," Strange commented from behind him as he and the others joined them at the van.

"That's a misconception that a lot of people have," Jean admitted. "Sure, we have to keep in shape, but we also have to be able to bounce back pretty easily from different conditions. If we were always working out so much that we were real hardbodies, then any extended missions would be a problem for us, not to mention that it would be a lot harder for us to be inconspicuous when we had to. I mean, who do you notice more…. The redhead or the woman who looks like she's taking enough steroids to cause cancer?"

"I hadn't considered that," Strange conceded, "but you do have to admit that you ladies are almost unhealthily slender."

"Actually, Stephen, that's not quite the case," Henry informed him. "Our research suggests that many mutants who are female, such as our lovely companions here, have a lower fat-to-muscle ratio than baseline human women. What would be unhealthy for other women is perfectly normal for them. Moria and Charles think it might have something to do with processing the extra cellular energy inherent in mutant powers."

"I didn't know that," Will confessed. "I thought it was just because of the exercise we all get."

"That helps, too," Rogue said as she stood up and dusted herself off. "Moria thinks that what happens is that nature gears our bodies for two things at once. We have to be healthy enough to survive, so we have more muscle mass, like a predator, but we also have to be able to make more little mutants, so we also get a build that'll attract potential mates."

"Well," Will said as he stood up, "I think that we gentlemen can agree that the Bright Lady succeeded admirably in the cases among us right now."

"You are a silver-tongued devil," Ororo told him with a smile.

"No, I'm a grey-eyed immortal. We get mixed up a lot."


	40. Chapter 40

"Would someone mind taking over the driving?" Jean asked. "I think I left my eyes somewhere on the road about five miles back."

"I'll do it," Strange offered. Jean pulled the van over, and they switched places, with Jean sitting with Rogue in the middle bench seat.

"You okay?" Rogue asked as Jean leaned her head back and rubbed her eyes.

"Just a little headache from the glare. Between the sun and the wheat fields, I feel like the horizon's been seared onto my retinas."

"Put this on for a few minutes," Will suggested, leaning forward and handing her his sleep mask.

"Thanks," she said, placing it over her eyes. "Ah, that's better."

"No problem." Will returned his attention to the notebook that he had been scribbling in for the past hour.

"What are you working on, anyway?"

"Chapter Two."

"That was cryptic. Chapter Two of what?"

"My contractually due novel."

"You finally decided on a genre?" Rogue asked.

He nodded. "It's going to be a hard-boiled detective mystery."

"Not a bad choice," Henry said. "Mysteries always tend to sell well."

"That wasn't my main consideration," Will admitted, "but I won't complain if it's popular. If we ever have to go public, having a bestseller under my belt might help our public relations. It would show people that we're not sitting in the shadows, waiting to pounce on them."

"That's a good point," he admitted. "I've found that some of my strongest support over the years has come from my old colleagues from the Brand Corporation, and my fellow graduate school alumnae. Once they learned to look past my newly hirsute appearance, they discovered that I was the same obsessive, absent-minded workaholic that I had always been, and they treated me accordingly."

Ororo nodded. "Unfortunately, we can't all be as open with our identities. We have to be careful about where and how we work openly."

"I know," Will replied. "That's why I've been spending some time brainstorming ideas to fix that."

Jean lifted the sleep mask off her eyes and twisted around in her seat to look at Will. "Like what?"

Will and Rogue described, briefly, the basic outline of Will's plans for economic influence, expanding the intelligence capacity of the Mutant Underground, and sabotage of their enemies' plans.

"You _have_ been busy, haven't you?" Strange asked when they were done.

"We all need a hobby," Will shrugged.

"When can you get started on this?" Ororo questioned.

Will thought for a moment. "I can't think of any reason why I can't get started right now. Did anybody keep the paper from this morning?"

"Here you go," Bobby said, handing it to him.

"Thanks." He turned his attention to the financial section. "At least they have the Standard and Poor 500," he said to himself. "That gives me something to work with." He was silent for the next few minutes as he scribbled in his notebook. "That should be enough for tomorrow," he decided. "What time is it?"

"About two," Rogue told him.

"Making it eight in Dublin. He should still be in his office."

"Who should?"

"Jeffrey Riordhan, my attorney and financial advisor. Can we pull in at the next rest stop so I can give him a call?"

"No need," Ororo said, handing him a cellular phone. "I thought that we would need it eventually."

"There's no risk of my frying it, is there, Stephen?"

"None."

"Good." Will pulled out his wallet and flipped through it until he found his long distance card. A few moments later, he was waiting for someone on the other end of the line to pick up.

"Hi, Jeff, it's Will. Because you always work late, then sleep late. That's one of the reasons I like you.

"Listen, I want you to set up a mutual fund for some friends of mine. Ten for now, with more slots to be added later. Set it up as a corporation, but make it a subsidiary of TNO, Inc.. I'll send you the contracts by courier in the next week or so. Set it up with a five thousand punt loan for each share…. no, better make that ten thousand. Once the value of the fund doubles, take half of any further profit and apply it to the initial debt of the individual funds. The other half gets rolled back into the main fund. Once the initial debts are wiped out, the full profit gets rolled over. Got all that? Good. Okay, here's the timetable for tomorrow." He quickly rattled off the names of several companies, then gave the values at which he wanted them purchased and sold on the stock exchange.

"Next subject: I'm going to have some assignments for the Research Division soon, so you might want to open up the Crypt and dust them off. If they start whining, remind them that I'm the one who signs the paychecks and owns the equipment, and that despite what they might think, I don't pay them to download porn from the Web.

"All right, that should be it for now. I'll be in Dublin in two weeks or so for our quarterly review. Here's an idea…. why don't you have Nuala and Maire join us, and we'll make a day of it? It's been, what, two years since I saw them last? Maire's _how_ old? Oh, great, thank you for making me feel ancient. Another birthday that week? Okay, then, why don't we surprise her and take her out? Rent a limo for the day and make some reservations at someplace fancy. Make sure that she gets a nice new dress for the night, and put it on my tab. Hold on a second." He put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Rogue. "You want to come?"

Rogue thought about it. For about one second. "Sure."

Will nodded, smiling, then turned his attention back to the phone. "Make the reservation for five. My girlfriend, May, will be joining us. Good. See you then." He turned the phone off and handed it back to Ororo. "I'll have those contracts drawn up when we get to Chicago. It should only take a half-hour or so at a computer. I'll get a notary to stamp them, and have your funds started the next day."

"That _is_ very generous of you," Ororo told him, "but I have to admit that part of me has absorbed enough of your cynicism to wonder what your ulterior motive is."

Will shrugged. "It's not exactly hard to figure out. I want to make sure that the X-Men can protect themselves in case a situation comes up where powers and fighting skills don't mean anything. By the time I'm done, you'll all be secure financially…. off the books, of course…. and have a few extra, absolutely secure identities that you can slip into if you ever have to rabbit."

"What was that company you mentioned?"

"TNO Inc. It stands for Tir na Og, the Gaelic name for the Otherworld."

"Your people are reliable, and discreet?"

"I pay only for the best. They know that I treat them better than any of my competitors, so it's in their best interest to stay loyal and keep their skills up to date."

"What was that Crypt you mentioned?" Strange asked.

"That's the nickname we use for the place in Dublin where they work…. and play…. and pretty much live, now that I think about it. They aren't exactly social divas…. and my standards for social interaction are a lot lower than most other people's. They're Americans, mostly, and they fit every stereotype about computer programmers that there is. We started calling the place the Crypt when Jeff joked once that we'd have to keep them out of direct sunlight and make sure that their take-out food didn't have too much garlic."

Rogue giggled. "Sounds like Kitty would have a blast talking with them. It's been a while since she could talk shop with anybody."

"That may not be such a good idea. Being in close proximity to a living, breathing, attractive female would probably make their brains explode from the hormone rush."

Rogue smiled naughtily. "Maybe I should make a surprise visit while you're there, and make sure that I'm wearing something that's pretty revealing."

"No, because that would make _my_ brain explode from the hormone rush."

Rogue smiled at the others. "Doesn't he say the sweetest things?"

* * *

About an hour later, Henry looked at the tapes that Jean had purchased, trying to find something to play. "Let's see…. Stones…. U2…. Fleetwood Mac…."

"And _The Best of Queen_," Will added.

"I didn't buy that," Jean objected.

"Doesn't matter. Pop in one of those tapes, and the Gaiman-Pratchett Law will kick in eventually."

"The what?"

"Trust me."

"Any arguments against stopping for lunch?" Strange asked.

"None here," Henry said. "I'm ravenous."

"Yes, Henry," Will said dryly, "you look positively emaciated."

"Be nice."

"What are our choices?" Rogue asked.

"Well, I've seen signs for home-style cooking, Italian, Japanese, and McBurgers."

"Let's do Italian," Bobby suggested. "If they do sandwiches, we can get some for dinner, and skip a dinner stop later tonight."

"Good idea," Ororo agreed.

"Italian food, twenty minutes ahead," Strange announced.

About ten minutes later, however, he slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder of the road. "We may be delayed a while," he said as he cut the engine.

"What's the problem?" Bobby asked.

"There's a lot of magical activity in the area. Can you feel it, Will?"

Will nodded as he sat up and put on his shoes. "It feels like agricultural magic. Maybe a farmer is trying to make sure he gets a good crop this year?"

"No, it's too late in the season for that. This only feels a few hours old."

"Harvest ritual?"

"Maybe. Give me a moment to see if I can narrow it down." He stepped out of the van and walked towards the vast expanse of grain which stretched out before them. "It's about three hundred meters that way."

"It might be best if you and I go on ahead. If it's hostile, you and I have the strongest magical defenses."

"Good idea. Ororo, you and the others should stay about fifty yards behind us. Jean, I'd suggest setting up a psychic cloak."

"All right. Be careful."

Strange nodded and gestured, transforming his clothing into his magical garb. His coat levitated him into the air, and another wave of his hand lifted Will along with him. They cautiously made their way towards the disturbance.

"Rogue," Jean asked, "do you feel up to flying on your own?"

"No problem. We'd better keep low," she advised Ororo as she floated up. "We don't want to spook any farmers."

Ororo nodded, summoning a wind to raise herself up, while Jean used her telekinesis to support herself, Henry and Bobby. They were all careful to stay no more than three decimeters or so above the field of wheat. After a few moments, Ororo noticed a gap in the rows of grain, somewhat circular in shape. Pointing it out to the others, she glided down towards it.

Will and Strange were there, standing in the center of an area where the wheat had apparently been harvested and tied into sheaves. They were both looking over the ground, nudging loose stalks of grain aside with their toes. "Found one," Strange said from a spot near the edge of the circle.

Will nodded and strode over to a point on the circle opposite Strange. "And here's the other one," he said after a moment.

"What did you find?" Ororo asked.

"Take a look," he suggested, gesturing for them to come closer. "Just don't touch anything."

They walked over to him, then looked down, where they saw a small doll, about three decimeters tall, made of bound straw. It had no hands or feet, and the face was featureless, but certain anatomical details made it clear that the figure was male. It was also, to put it delicately, ready for action.

"Well," Bobby said, "_that_ doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?"

"The other one's a bit more abstract," Strange said as he walked over.

"Let me guess," Will said. "A Brigid's Cross."

"Right."

Rogue and Ororo, who had both spoken with Will about his religious faith, and read a few books that he had lent to them, looked at one another for a moment. "Are you saying that a fertility ritual took place here?" Ororo asked.

"It looks that way," Strange confirmed. "About two hours ago would be my guess, since they're traditionally held at either midnight or high noon."

"I'm glad we didn't pass by this way earlier," Will said. "I really would have been embarrassed if we'd barged in on them while they were in _flagrante delecti_."

"_You_ would have been embarrassed?" Bobby asked. "What about _them_?"

"They probably would have been so deeply in a trance state that they wouldn't even have noticed us."

Strange concentrated for a moment. "We may have a problem, Will."

"What's that?"

"They never closed the gate."

"Oh, boy," Will said apprehensively. "Think _we_ can do it?"

"It'll be difficult, given the way it was opened."

"The feedback's going to be a bear."

"My shields can handle it."

"Great, but what about _me_? I don't exactly have conventional shields."

"The structure of your mind should act as a barrier to some degree," Jean told him. "If you start acting suspiciously, I'll just knock you out."

"How?"

"I can close off the blood flow to your brain for a few seconds if I have to. That should do the job."

"I think the fact that I'm trying this raises the argument that there _is_ no blood supply to my brain."

"Could somebody please explain this to me?" Bobby said in exasperation.

Will and Strange looked at one another for a moment, then Strange nodded at Will to continue. "About two hours ago, two people preformed a variation on an ancient ritual found in some ancient European societies. They cleared this spot out and dedicated it to the Great Goddess and the Horned God. When they did that, they opened up certain psychic and magical gates. They asked for divine assistance in preserving the fertility of the land, then entered a shared trance and took on the personas of the deities. They made love, channeling the resulting psychic energy into the earth. When they were done, they left, _but_ they forgot to close the gates that they had opened."

"And now," Strange finished, "all sorts of things could wander on through, attracted by the magic that they raised."

"So you have to close the gates to prevent this," Henry concluded.

"Exactly." He looked up. "It looks like they raised a Cone of Power, Will. I'll head up to the apex, and you can work from the base."

Will nodded. "This is going to be _very_ annoying. I'm not used to working widdershins."

"Neither am I, but it can't be helped." Strange turned to the others. "It's probably a good idea for the rest of you to step back, beyond the edge of the circle."

Ororo nodded. "Anything else?"

"Not yet. We'll let you know when we're done."

"Be careful," Rogue cautioned Will.

"I plan to be," he promised. "And _you_ be careful after this is over."

Rogue looked at him, puzzled, but said nothing as she joined the others among the stalks of grain.

Strange's coat billowed around him for a moment, and he floated up about twenty feet as Will took his place at the center of the circle. "I'll follow your lead, Will," he said. "It's going to be easier for me to match the flow of your magic than it would be for you to work around my spells."

"Right," Will agreed, taking a deep breath. "Okay, here goes." His eyes took on their usual glow, a glow which soon enveloped the whole of his body and expanded until it reached the edge of the circle. Strange made a brief series of gestures, and the glow took on a darker shade, gaining a degree of solidity in the process.

"Think they'll be okay?" Bobby asked.

"Stephen should be," Rogue said, "but I'm not so sure about Will."

"You aren't still concerned about his mental state, are you?" Henry asked.

"No, but he's still pretty weak, physically."

"Maybe he shouldn't be doing this, then," Jean said with a worried look.

"I think he'd feel worse if we kept him from trying. He thinks he needs to get back to work as soon as he can."

Jean considered that for a moment. "It's probably the best thing for him right now. He seems to respond best to work therapy, so maybe we should give him something to keep him busy when he gets back."

"Why not a garden?" Ororo suggested.

"I thought flowers were _your_ domain," Bobby said.

"Not a flower garden, a vegetable garden. It fits in with his religious views, I think that he would enjoy it, and it would give me an opportunity to work and speak with him in an informal setting."

"It seems workable," Henry decided, "but what do we have him do when the weather turns cold?"

"Well," Bobby said, thinking aloud, "we haven't used the stables since Dani and Brightwind left. Why don't we let him turn them into a workshop? They're big enough for him to do almost anything in there."

"Good idea," Jean said. "We'll talk about it later…. if we're not busy patching Will and Stephen up."

"Quiet down." Rogue said in a hushed voice. "They've started."

* * *

Will had removed his shoes and socks, and had rolled back his sleeves to reveal his tattoos. He stood on a small pile of corn leaves that he had gathered, primarily to avoid walking directly on the stiff remains of the stumps of cut corn. He held his hands out, palms up, at about stomach level. His eyes glanced up at Strange. "_Ready?_" he asked.

"Ready. Want me to make it visible?"

Will blinked. "_Can you do that? It would make things much easier_."

"Consider it done." Strange made a few more gestures, and the air began to shimmer in a manner similar to a heat mirage.

A large distortion appeared two meters in front of Will, and he braced himself, trying to be as immovable as possible. "_I'm going to start closing it now_," he told Strange.

He slowly began to bring his hands together, palm-to-palm. As he did so, a series of ripples appeared in the distortion in the air, starting at the edge and moving towards the center, creating an effect which looked like a backwards film of a rock landing in a pool. The distortion began to shrink, losing intensity as Will focused its energies back upon it.

"It's working, Will," Strange said in encouragement. "Keep it up."

Will nodded, not speaking as sweat broke out on his forehead. He leaned forward slightly in an unconscious effort to add physical strength in his mental struggle. "_Almost done_," he grunted through clenched teeth as his eyes gleamed. He staggered backwards one step, as if he had been pushed. "_Something is fighting me – trying to come through! Can you block it?_"

"I'll try." Strange chanted something unintelligible, and a red glow surrounded the distortion. "That should help hold…."

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because both he and Will were suddenly hurled backwards against the 'wall' of the circle as a blast of energy shattered Strange's barrier. A large head, crowned by several sharp spikes of bone and bearing a mouth full of fanged teeth, forced its way through the doorway. Fixing its gaze on Will and Strange, it let out a guttural roar.

"_Yeah? Well, **up yours**, too!_" Will yelled. "_Keep it busy, Stephen! I need a few seconds!_"

Strange didn't answer directly, but a moment later a series of bright lights flashed in front of the creature, driving it back as it howled in pain and rage. "Whatever you're going to do," Strange yelled, "do it quickly!"

Will nodded, then held his hands out in front of him, palms down. A moment later, streamers of energy arose from the earth below him and danced over his body. The strength of his aura intensified as the dragons on his arms began to writhe and hiss.

* * *

"Oh, boy," Rogue said. "He's _really_ mad now."

"How can you tell?" Bobby asked.

"I can see the muscles in his jaw tightening."

* * *

Will, apparently, had had enough. Dispensing with subtlety, he strode up to the floating head. "_Go back!_" he snapped. The creature only roared in reply.

Rogue's jaw dropped as Will drew back his right arm, then drove his fist directly into the creature's left eye. As it screamed in pain, Will gave it a left cross to the jaw.

"_Your time on this world is done! You will not return…. not on **my** watch!_"

Opening its mouth again, the beast let out a large gout of flame, which quickly spread out and engulfed Will's upper body. The others gasped, expecting a scream of pain from Will, but were stunned when he was revealed to be standing behind a Door, which siphoned off the majority of the flame. His hair and clothes were singed, but other than a burn across his left arm and shoulder, he was unharmed.

"_That_," he growled, "_is **enough**_." He took a step back. "_Your kind fouled Mother Earth for far too long. You will **not** do so again_." Raising his right arm, he plucked his sword out of the air. "_This is your last warning: **Go back**. If you continue in this, I **will** take action_."

The creature pushed its way through the portal, forcing a clawed hand through. It tried to take a swipe at Will, who nimbly stepped out of the way.

"_I will take that as a refusal_." He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, then lowered his head for a moment. When he raised it again, his aura darkened still more, and soon he seemed to be veiled in shadow. His eyes, however, remained bright and shining.

"_I compel you_," he said in a booming voice, "_to leave this world, and to remain banished until the rocks melt and the seas burn_." Raising his sword, he made a downward stroke at the outstretched arm. The blade cut deeply into the leathery hide, and a moment later, greenish-blue blood spurted from the wound, evaporating into steam almost instantly. The creature screamed yet again, and retreated a foot or so back into the portal.

Will stepped forward, keeping pace with the entity. "_Go_," he growled. "_Return to your accursed home_." Snarling, it complied.

* * *

"I can't believe that I'm seeing this," Bobby whispered. "That thing's ten times his size. Why in God's name is it retreating?"

"If I understood Will's explanation correctly," Ororo replied, "he may very well _be acting in_ a god's name. From the way he was speaking, I think he may have taken in some lingering energies from the ritual, which would mean that he is acting as an avatar of some sort."

"Well, whatever he's doing," Jean said, "it looks like it's working." Indeed, the creature had nearly vanished back into the portal. Will lowered his sword, then used one of the belt loops of his jeans as an ersatz scabbard. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he started bringing his hands together again, causing the portal to close once more. Within a few seconds, the width of the spatial distortion had narrowed to about one meter.

"_I'm almost done, Stephen_," Will grunted. "_Get ready to lower the barrier_."

"All right. It'll take about three minutes."

Strange began the incantation which would close the circle, but his voice trailed off after a few moments. "Will, get back! It's trying to…!"

He was interrupted by another blast of energy, which threw him back a meter or so and ruined his concentration. A heartbeat later, the clawed hand shot out of the portal and seized Will. Before anyone had time to finish a gasp, he was yanked into the gateway.

"Will!" Rogue said with a scream as she rushed forward. She was stopped by the barrier of the circle. "Stephen, go after him!"

Strange stood up, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, then floated over to the portal. He was driven back a moment later by a blaze of silver energy, which flew out of the distortion like fire from a flame thrower. Strange set up a second barrier around himself and huddled down.

Rogue and the others were temporarily blinded by the glare, but they quickly recovered as it diminished. Small remnants of energy continued to escape from the gateway as Strange stood up and straightened his coat. Slowly and cautiously, he walked towards the portal.

When he was just over a meter away from the threshold of the distortion, the energy started to flare up again. It ebbed and flowed for a few moments, and then brightened one last time as Will fell out, collapsing on the ground.

Will stood up, shaking off Strange's attempts to assist. His clothes were ripped and torn, and were covered with greenish stains. He had several deep, jagged cuts on his face and chest, but his eyes were still glowing brilliantly.

Dropping his sword, he brought his hands back together, quickly closing the doorway. He shouted one last thing just before it vanished completely:

"_AND STAY OUT!_"

* * *

There was nothing said for several seconds as Will stood alone, breathing heavily from the exertion of what had evidently been a difficult task. He slowly sat down on the ground, wincing slightly as he did so. "_It's safe now_," he told Stephen. "_You can drop the circle_."

"You're sure?"

Will nodded. "_I guarantee you that it is **not** coming back_."

Strange looked at Will closely for a few moments, then nodded. About four minutes later, the barrier around them had vanished.

Ororo led the others towards the two sorcerers. "Are you both all right?" she asked, stepping into the clearing.

"I could probably use some aspirin and a nap," Strange said, "but otherwise I'm fine."

"_Just a few nicks and scratches for me_," Will supplied. "_I probably look worse than I feel_." He took a deep breath, then paused. "_Um…. I really hate having to ask this, but could you ladies be kind enough to move downwind?_"

Ororo started to give an angry retort, but decided against it. "Why? Are you saying that there is something unpleasant about the way that we smell?"

"_Quite the contrary…. you all smell really, **really** good, and right now there's enough testosterone flowing through me to supply a few Olympic weightlifting teams_."

"Ah."

"_Ah_."

"Why don't we just keep our distance for the next few minutes?" Jean quickly suggested.

"_That would be a **very** good idea_," Will advised.

Jean, Ororo and Rogue walked over to the downwind edge of the circle. "That's the first time I've been told that I smelled _too_ good," Jean remarked in a low voice.

"I recall a remark that Logan made to you soon after we joined," Ororo reminded her.

Jean blushed. "I'd forgotten about that."

"What did he say?" Rogue asked.

"He said that he knew that I was attracted to him. When I told him that he was full of it, he let me know that his nose told him differently."

"That sounds like Logan," Rogue agreed. "What _is_ it about that man?"

"I've always thought of it as animal attraction," Ororo confessed. "You find yourself intrigued by his primitive nature."

Bobby wandered over to them. "He says he should be okay in a minute. He's thinking about teleporting us straight to Chicago."

"Is he all right?" Jean asked.

"I think he's just tired. Hank took a quick look at him. He's got some scratches and bruises, but nothing major. His voice is back to normal, too. He wants to go shopping for some new clothes, then have a good meal and get some sleep."

"Sounds good to me," Rogue said. "Especially the shopping part."

"He thought you'd look forward to that. Come on."

They walked over to Will, who was examining his torn clothes with distaste. "Remind me when we get back to Salem Center to start using that body armored fabric in my uniform."

"I'll put it on my 'to do' list," Henry said. "Ready to go?"

He nodded. "Let's head back to the van. I'll need to look at a map of Chicago. I'll try to place us in the parking garage of the Drake Hotel."

"Won't we need a parking receipt?" Bobby asked.

"I can conjure one up if we have to," Strange supplied.

"We'll be a day early," Rogue pointed out.

"Remember how I got our rooms at the Shelbourne Hotel in Dublin?"

"Financial intimidation?"

"It's always brought _me_ results."

* * *

A few minutes later, they were back in the van. "Just drive us through slowly, Stephen," Will requested after opening up a Door large enough for the van to pass through.

"Okay." Strange started the engine, activating the tape player.

"-_Mama mia let me go/Beelzebub has a devil put aside for meee…."_

* * *

**_Author's Notes_**: The reference to the Gaiman-Pratchett Law is a reference to the novel _Good Omens_, by Neil Gaiman (of _Sandman_ fame) and Terry Pratchett (of _Discworld_ fame). They theorize that any cassette tape left in a car stereo long enough will eventually turn into a _Best of Queen_ album.


	41. Chapter 41

"What's our first stop?" Bobby asked Will as they walked out of the hotel lobby.

"Well, I want to get some clothes that I can wear to dinner tonight. There's a good haberdashery about five blocks away, so we'll hit that first. How's the charge on your inducer, Henry?"

Henry glanced at the device. "I estimate another one hundred hours remaining, if I leave it on constantly."

"Good. Hopefully, we can get you something off the racks. After we're done, it'll be the ladies' turn. Once everyone is dressed to the nines, we can go to a restaurant and club that I happen to like."

"What kind of club is it?" Rogue inquired.

"Jazz and swing."

"That should be different," Ororo said with a smile. "Is period clothing required?"

"It's optional, but I thought it would be a nice change of pace."

"Sounds good to me," Jean commented. "Let's get going."

* * *

"I don't know, Henry. I really think that blue or black would suit you better."

"I know, Bobby, but the selection of jackets in my size is limited," Henry replied as he checked the fit of the brown suit in the mirror.

"I have a blue blazer in the next size up," the tailor suggested. "I can have it taken in while your friends are being looked after."

"How long would that take?" Will asked.

"About half an hour."

"We'll do that, then," he said as he looked through an assortment of matching suspenders and ties. "Do you also carry fedoras?"

"We have a limited selection, sir. Do you happen to know your size?"

"Seven and three-eighths. These gentlemen will also need to be measured."

"Yes, sir. I'll be right back with a size gauge."

* * *

"What do you ladies think?" Will asked a few minutes later as he stepped out of the dressing room wearing a cobalt blue full-length jacket, pleated grey slacks, a white shirt with black garters on the sleeves, and black suspenders, tie, and gloves, topped off by a grey fedora with a black band.

"Elegant," Ororo said.

"Dashing," Jean added.

"_Rowr!_" Rogue growled.

"I think they approve," Will told the tailor. "Why don't we just snip off the tags, and I'll wear it out?"

"Of course, sir."

* * *

Bobby selected a tan jacket similar in style to Will's, chocolate brown slacks, and a dark brown fedora. Henry soon found a black hat which matched his outfit, and Strange chose an ensemble which echoed the colors of his magical garb, choosing to top it off with a white hat with a black band. Henry's jacket was completed soon afterwards, and Will paid for their purchases.

"Any ideas on where we can find something?" Rogue asked as they left.

"Not really," he admitted. "We've still got a while before the club opens, so we can take our time. We'll walk around for a while and see what we can find. Actually…." He walked over to the corner of the block, where a group of teenagers was standing. "Excuse me, I was wondering if you ladies and gentlemen could help me," he said politely.

The spokesman for the teens, who sported several piercings and a dyed, spiky haircut, was obviously unused to being spoken to in so respectful a manner, and hesitated a moment before answering. "Uh, maybe," he said uncertainly. "What do you need?"

"As you can probably guess from the way that I'm dressed, my friends and I are going to a swing club tonight. Would you happen to know of a place where the ladies could find clothes that would be appropriate for the occasion?"

"Sure!" a young woman with bright pink hair said cheerfully. "There's a place three blocks down that way called Past Out. They have lots of Twenties and Thirties styles."

"Thank you very much, Ma'am," Will replied, tipping his hat to her respectfully. "Let's go, everybody." He started off in the direction that the young woman had indicated.

Bobby tapped Will on the shoulder as they made their way down the block. "How did you manage that? If I'd asked them, I probably would have gotten mugged."

"Because you'd be projecting that expectation to them through your non-verbal communication. When I talked to them, I was nothing more than what I appeared to be. Besides, the fact that I was completely, and, more importantly, _honestly_ polite threw them off for a moment, so they didn't have time to think up a rude reply."

"You're a good applied psychologist, Will," Jean said.

"Thank you, Jean. Coming from you, that's quite a compliment." He turned his head to scan the territory ahead of them, then stopped. "Time out, everybody. There's something I need to get done."

"What's that?" Strange asked.

"A haircut." He walked into the open door of the barbershop, and was seated in the chair a moment later.

Ororo and Jean looked at one another. "He _is_ looking a little scruffy," Jean admitted.

"True. Is anyone thirsty?"

"I could stand a soda," Rogue admitted.

"So could I," Strange agreed.

"One six-pack of Coke, coming up," Jean told them as she walked into a nearby corner store, leaving about a minute later. They leaned against the building and chatted for about twenty minutes.

Rogue stood right next to the door, so Will's voice nearly made her jump.

"All done," he said.

She turned around and stared at him. His hair had been cut short and slicked straight back. Trimming off the ends had evidently shorn off the last of his brown hair, because it was now solidly dark grey. He had trimmed back his whiskers and shaved off the sideburns, leaving him with a short, elegantly styled mustache and goatee.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Rogue looked at him for a few moments. "I think I'm going to need some time to get used to it," she confessed.

"Fair enough. Any other opinions? You don't get a vote, Stephen. As the only other man here with facial hair, you're somewhat biased."

"I think it suits you well," Ororo offered.

"It looks good on you," Jean agreed.

"I like it," Bobby said, "but Bishop may feel like you're muscling in on his territory."

"That's _his_ problem. Let's go."

* * *

A few minutes later, they reached the clothing store, and the ladies were soon happily exploring the possibilities on the racks. "I'll be back in a minute," Will said quietly to Henry. "I'm getting something to read while we're waiting."

"I would suggest _War and Peace_."

"I was thinking _Finnegan's Wake,_ myself."

Actually, it took less than an hour for the women to make their selections. Ororo walked out of the dressing room wearing a black sleeveless top and a white, mid-thigh length pleated skirt. As usual, she didn't wear any hose – she found it difficult to find a color which complimented her, and her flawless brown skin needed no further enhancement. She wore a few silver bracelets on her wrists, and had found a pair of ornate silver earrings which closely matched them. She finished the outfit with a pair of black stiletto heels.

"Ororo, you look exquisite," Strange said.

"Thank you, Stephen," she replied with a smile. "I was torn between choosing this or a flapper dress. I felt that this would be better for dancing."

"So get both," Will advised. "You can wear the other dress another time. Maybe you can start a trend in Salem Center."

Jean appeared a few minutes later, dressed in a royal blue beaded dress, light blue hose, and a blue head wrap, under which she had hidden most of her hair. "Can anybody teach me how to do the Charleston?" she asked. "I feel like I should know how in this outfit."

"The dancing at the place where we're going is a little more energetic," Will told her. "If you're good at it, there are a lot of jumps and flips involved."

Jean blinked, digesting that for a moment. "Maybe I should get some tap pants," she said to Ororo.

"Good idea," she agreed.

"Is Rogue almost ready?" Will asked.

"She said she might be a few more minutes," Jean told him.

"Fair enough. Can I have the tags for your outfits, so I can pay the cashier?"

"Here you are," Ororo said, handing them to him.

"I'll be ready in just a minute," Jean told him. She headed over to the lingerie section (although given the size of the store, it was more like the lingerie corner). She found something appropriate after a few moments of searching, and headed over to the dressing rooms to check the size.

As she was about to enter the nearest free cubicle, Rogue poked her head out from behind one of the curtains. "Psst, Jean!" she whispered. "Where's Will?"

"He's paying for Ororo's outfit. Why?"

"I want to surprise him. Let me know when he comes back."

"Okay, but I have to try this on first. Otherwise, I'll be giving a bit of a show."

"Got it." She dropped back behind the curtain.

The tap pants proved to be a perfect fit, and after making sure that they were covered by the hem of the dress, Jean stepped out of the dressing room. Will had rejoined the others, and took the tags for Jean's items. "Is there anything else you want?" he asked her.

"No, this'll be fine. He's here," she called back to Rogue.

"Thanks." She stepped out from behind the curtain and leaned against the wall. "Well?" she asked the men. "What do you think?" Her dress was a simple, long-sleeved one-piece, which had a white floral pattern imposed on a rich, rust brown background. She wore a pair of dainty white cotton gloves, white flats, and tan hose. "All I have to add now is some jewelry," she said as she twirled around, flaring out the skirt.

"You don't need any," Will said with a smile. "You couldn't possibly improve on how you look now."

"I have to start writing some of these lines down to use later," Bobby whispered.

"I don't think you could manage them the way he does," Strange whispered back. "It's all in the delivery."

"Is that everything, then?" Henry asked Will.

"Should be…. wait." He patted his pockets, searching for something. "Did I have my pocket watch on me when you found me?"

Henry tried to remember. "I don't think so."

"I'll have to get another one, then."

"Can't you wear a wristwatch?"

He shook his head. "I used to, but I kept reaching for my pocket whenever I wanted to know what the time was, so I said the hell with it and switched to pocket watches. It's the same thing that happens when I try to shave…. the Chorus looks for older solutions to problems, and sometimes that affects me in some very subtle ways."

Strange nodded. "Interesting. Does that ever get you in trouble?"

He grimaced. "There was one time when I was traveling through Europe about four years ago. I was camping at the time, and had just woken up. I wanted breakfast, so I set up a simple noose trap."

"That doesn't sound like a problem."

"It is when you set it up on the Autobahn."

* * *

They made a quick stop at a watch repair shop, where Will bought an unclaimed, modern-looking pocket watch with a meter-long length of chain. The chain, which was composed of linked bars, was somewhat heavy and looked a bit more substantial than an ordinary link chain.

"That's the first macho-looking pocket watch I've ever seen," Bobby commented after they left the shop.

"It's probably going to take a lot of abuse," Will shrugged, "so I may as well get something durable. Besides, it could make a decent weapon in an emergency."

"How so?" Strange asked out of curiosity.

"You use the watch as a weight at the end of the chain, and you can wrap it around an enemy's limbs or neck. If you made the chain strong enough, you could probably snap bones."

"Gee, that's _my_ first priority when looking for a timepiece," Bobby said sarcastically.

"It's a way to hide a weapon in plain sight. Law enforcement and security always look for the obvious…. guns, knives, that sort of thing. Simpler, more subtle things will usually slip by them. For example…. Ororo, do you realize that any of the X-Women could walk around in plain sight, carrying at least two deadly weapons, and that most people wouldn't look twice at them?"

"What would they be?"

He pointed at her hair. "Take a metal comb or hair pin, sharpen the tip, and dip it in poison. You could do the same with a pair of glasses….. just take the plastic ends off the ear pieces and put them back on to protect yourself until you need to use them. Or you could replace the shoulder pads in a suit jacket with plastique, strangle somebody with a belt or kerchief, coat the outside of a pair of gloves with a contact poison…. the possibilities are endless."

"You should give him a job coming up with these ideas," Strange told Ororo jokingly.

"I agree. Mister Riley, I hereby appoint you the X-Man in charge of Espionage, Mayhem, Deception, and Other Sneaky Things Like That."

"Yes, Ma'am," Will replied, giving her a snappy salute. "I promise to never tell you the whole truth about what I'm doing."

"You'll be following the old espionage tradition, then?" Henry asked.

"Of course. If I didn't, Wisdom would take away my Junior Spy kit." He glanced across the street. "Time for another stop."

"For what?" Rogue asked.

"I'm not sure yet. Let's go." He dashed across the street and entered a store that billed itself as a secondhand music shop. The others looked at each other, shrugged, and followed him inside. They soon lost themselves among the racks of vinyl records, compact discs, tapes, and sheet music.

After a few minutes, Rogue found Will in the back of the store, looking at a rack of secondhand instruments. "Thinking of getting something?" she asked.

He nodded, then walked over to the older man who sat behind the counter. After a few minutes of haggling over the price, he purchased an old, but still serviceable Telecaster and a portable battery-powered speaker. The salesman then took a measurement of Will's left ring finger and cut a small length of copper tubing to use as a slide.

"You play the blues?" Strange asked.

"A little," Will replied. "I'm a bit more comfortable with classical music." He plugged the speaker in, then played a tune that was familiar to Rogue's ears. "What was that?" she asked.

"_Toccata and Fugue in D Minor_, by J.S. Bach. I always thought that it would make a great cover for a metal band."

Jean thought about that. "It probably would."

"We are now going straight to the club," Will said firmly. "If I get distracted again, take my hat off and whap me over the head with it."

* * *

_Three whaps later…._

"Okay, we're here. Now stop hitting me."

"Darn," Rogue said with a pout. "I was starting to enjoy it."

The doorman, upon noticing how the seven newcomers were dressed, urged them to move ahead in the line, and they were soon walking into the club. It was decorated in a retro-Forties style, and the dance floor was surrounded by tables where the trend seekers watched one another looking fashionable. The band, composed of a full complement of horns and drums, was playing a fast rendition of Glenn Miller's _In the Mood_.

"Very nice," Rogue commented, as she surveyed the club.

"I thought you'd like it," Will said with a smile. "Remember, everybody, the sky's the limit here."

After a few moments of discussion with the head waiter, during which some money changed hands, they were led to the upper level of the club, where three tables were pushed together for them.

They were given a few minutes to look over the menus. "I believe I will partake of the surf and turf," Henry decided.

"I'll go with the Porterhouse," Strange added.

"I will have the clams casino," Ororo said.

"Lobster Thermidor for me," Bobby decided.

"I'm going with the Veal Picatta," Rogue finished.

"Good," Will said after they were done. "That leaves the sausage and portabello ravioli for me." He glanced at the bottom of the menu. "I'd also recommend the tiramisu for dessert. It's a local specialty."

"Sounds good to me," Rogue told him.

"Do any of you want to get wine?" Will asked. "I'll just order a carafe."

"I think I will try the _chenin blanc_," Ororo said. "Henry, would you care to split it with me?"

"Certainly, Ororo."

Once they had given their orders to the waiter and been served their drinks (Will, Rogue, Stephen, Jean and Bobby had all ordered soda), the dance floor started to become more crowded. The band alternated between playing old swing standards by Miller, Goodman, and Basie, Fifties staples like Little Richard and Spike Jones, and some of the newer, neo-swing revival pieces by the Brian Seltzer Orchestra.

Rogue noticed that Will was tapping his foot, and drumming his fingers along with the music. She smiled at him indulgently. "You want to be up there, don't you?" she asked.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're practically drooling. Go on," she told him. "Jean'll give you a buzz when the food gets here."

He took one of her hands in his and kissed it. "You're a treasure." He then stood up, grabbed his guitar case, and made his way towards the band. Two minutes later, he was up on the stage, plugging the guitar into the speakers.

"What do you think he'll play?" Jean asked.

"I'm not sure," Ororo admitted.

As the brass section of the band began, Will went up to the microphone.

_"Hey, bartender!_

_I got a lover, but it's not what it seems,_

_Pour me a drink, if you know what I mean!_

_Don't mix it up,_

_Give me straight what you got!_

_I don't want it on the rocks,_

_I want my lovin' straight up!"_

"Brian Seltzer," Rogue said.

"How do you know?" Strange asked.

"Will has the CD with this song. I borrowed it."

"Oh."

"His singing voice is better than I expected," Ororo conceded.

"He's a good tenor," Henry agreed.

After Will finished the song, the audience gave him a fair amount of applause. He smiled, tipping his hat in response, then turned back to the band and talked with them for a few seconds. Stepping back to the microphone, he cleared his throat.

"You should all recognize this one." He launched directly into the opening riff of _Johnny Be Good_. Five seconds after he had finished that song, he gave a spirited rendition of Eddie Cochran's _Summertime Blues_.

"I didn't know he could hit bass," Bobby noted.

After he had finished, Will bowed to the audience and spoke with the band for another moment, then unplugged his guitar and rejoined the others at the table, just in time for their meals to arrive.

"I needed that," he confessed as he sat down.

"The applause?" Henry asked.

"The music. Having so many people in sync with what I was playing was kind of a psychic boost." He took a deep drink of his water. "Now, let's eat."

Their meals were expertly prepared, and they found themselves torn with indecision when the dessert cart came by. Rogue took Will's suggestion and chose the tiramisu, which she found was delicious.

"Any ideas for tomorrow, Will?" Jean asked as she nibbled on her blueberry cheesecake.

"That depends on what you'd prefer. We can do architecture, sports, culture, or more shopping. What sounds best to you?"

"Why not combine it all?" Bobby suggested. "I'll see a Cubs or White Sox game, and the rest of you can catch a museum or tour in the morning, have a nice lunch, then go shopping in the afternoon."

"That sounds workable," Will agreed. "The two big choices for museums here are the Art Institute and the Field Museum, which is a lot like the Museum of Natural History back in New York. Afterwards, we can take the Frank Lloyd Wright tour in Oak Park."

"Let's do the Institute," Strange advised. "We can split up to see the periods that we like best."

"Good idea, Stephen," Ororo complimented him. "We can decide on whether or not we want to continue our support of the country's economy when we are finished."

Strange chuckled, then abruptly froze while bringing his fork to his mouth. He glanced at Will. "Did you feel that?"

Will, whose posture had also stiffened, nodded in response. "Another sorcerer?"

"The energy signature rings a bell. Give me a second to come up with a name." After a few moments, his expression became one of contempt. "Oh, not _him_."

"Are we in any danger?" Ororo asked, concerned.

"Not unless you can be bored to death. It's Eobard Emrys."

Will snorted with laughter. "Eddie Emrys? He's _still_ at it? Oh, Bright Lady save us!"

"Who is this guy?" Bobby asked.

"He's proof of the maxim that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing," Strange explained. "There was a half-decent sorcerer in his family about six centuries ago, and the magical potential was passed down the family line."

"Unfortunately," Will continued, "intelligence and common sense were not. He's a total idiot. Three-quarters of his spells come out wrong, and even the ones that are right end up turning on him most of the time."

Strange took over. "But he thinks he has some sort of grand destiny because of a scroll that he found when his powers manifested themselves. It said that when the heir to the throne of the original sorcerer's kingdom is back in power and the nation is independent, then the full might of Eddie's magical heritage will be his to claim."

"Sounds pretty straightforward," Bobby said. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem," Will said with a grin, "is that the nation is question is the Archbishopric of Trier, which was wiped off the map by Napolean. The area is part of France now. Somehow, I don't see the current residents stepping aside to let Eddie take over."

"But Eddie thinks that all he has to do is get together enough money to buy a good sized plot of land over there, and then the prophecy will be fulfilled," Strange finished. "I've tried to tell him that his ancestor's prophecy can't be taken at face value, but he won't listen to me."

"What was wrong with the ancestor?" Jean asked.

"The historical evidence suggests that in the last few years of his life, he had developed a syphilitic brain infection," Will told her. "That made him almost completely insane. He probably would have been locked away eventually, but the bubonic plague hit the area and wiped out most of the population, including Eddie's forebear."

Strange glanced up. "He's coming this way."

Will thought for a moment. "Do me a favor, Stephen. Don't tell him who I am at first."

"Why?"

"I haven't really had a chance to see what my reputation in the magical community is lately. I want to see what his gut reaction is when you introduce me."

"Right."

A few moments later, a middle-aged blond man walked over to their table. "Good evening, Stephen," he said in a German accent. "You're not usually in this area."

"Hello, Eddie," Strange replied in a bored voice. "What are you up to this time?"

"I'm staying focused on my goal. I'm going to fulfill my destiny…. any way I can."

Strange looked at him sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Since you and the other practitioners of your caliber have refused my requests for aid and training, I've been forced to look…. elsewhere…. for guidance."

"Who did you bargain with, Eddie?" Strange demanded.

"He prefers that I not mention his name on this plane. I won't be mocked anymore, Stephen. Don't be surprised if you have a challenger for your position sometime soon."

"That will not happen," Will said flatly.

Emrys turned to Will with a contemptuous sneer. "And who are _you_, you ignorant peon?"

Strange smiled. "Eddie, I'd like you to meet my newest student, Mister Will Riley."

Emrys' jaw dropped as his face was suddenly drained of all color. "The Archetype?" he whispered.

"The same," Strange said with a grin.

"Please continue, Mister Emrys," Will said in a silky voice as he leaned forward and cupped his chin in one hand. "I find your speculations on the future fascinating. Tell me, do you keep that talisman of yours on you twenty-four hours a day?"

"H-How did you know about that?" Emrys stammered.

"The problem with a talisman," Will continued, "is that you have to keep it close at hand." He waved his right hand negligently, and a small bag appeared in his palm. "If it falls into the hands of an opponent, then you're in _real_ trouble."

Emrys put his hand to his shirt pocket, then got a look of panic.

"Go home, little magician," Will told him in a stern voice as he flicked his hand and tossed the bag back to him. "You are _way_ out of your league. As the good Doctor is currently my instructor, I'd be honor-bound to fight on his behalf if anyone were to act against him." He glanced at Emrys' belt. "By the way, there seems to be something wrong with your beeper."

"What are you talking about?" Emrys demanded. "I just bought this!"

"It appears to have shorted out." Will's eyes flashed for a moment, and the beeper started spitting out sparks.

Emrys frantically batted at the beeper for a moment, then yanked it off just before it burst into flames. He looked at Will with a terrified expression for a moment, then ran for the door.

Will calmly took his glass of water and poured it over the remains of the beeper. "Do you suppose it was something I said?" he asked the others innocently.

They looked at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. "You're horrible," Jean told him.

"I've never pretended to be anything else." He held his hand out to Rogue. "Shall we dance, my dear?"

"Why not?" she replied with a smile, linking her hand in his.

They made their way towards the dance floor, and Will nodded at the bandleader as they stepped in front of the bandstand. The bandleader nodded in reply, and stepped up to the microphone as soon as the band finished its latest song.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have some special requests for this evening." As he spoke, the drummer began a quick, rhythmic backbeat. "The first is…."

"_Hey! Pachuco!"_

The crowd cheered and surged onto the dance floor as the band went full blast into the song. Will surprised Rogue by spinning her around quickly, then catching her as she dropped back onto one leg. She quickly got into the spirit of things, however, and joined him in a dance which combined elements of the Charleston, the Twist, and the Jitterbug.

They were surprised to see Jean and Henry on the dance floor a few minutes later, followed quickly by Ororo and Strange. "I didn't realize Ororo was that good a dancer," Will remarked.

"She doesn't do it that often," Rogue confided. "If you can get her to loosen up, though, she can really get down. The wine that she had probably helped."

The band began a rendition of Louis Prima's _Jump, Jive, and Wail,_ and the acrobatics that Will had promised earlier came into play as some of the more adventurous dancers started flying into the air. "Want to try some of that?" she asked him.

"Why not?" he replied. Before she could say anything, he wrapped his arm around her waist and spun around. Her legs went limp and crossed over his back when he stopped. He placed his left arm behind her knees and swung around again, letting go of her waist. She yelled in delighted surprise as she fell and swung out about a foot above the floor. Will spun around for a full turn, then stopped, using the momentum to swing Rogue across his chest and cause her to land in a sitting position on his right shoulder. He stopped her by supporting her back with his right hand.

Rogue gasped, then laughed again as Will lowered her down. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?" she asked.

"I'd never tried it before," he told her with a smile.

They danced for nearly an hour, until Will let out a gasp and gestured for her to leave the dance floor with him. "Are you okay?" she asked him as they sat down.

"I think I might have done something to my back during one of those flips," he confessed.

"What time is it?" she asked.

He pulled out his watch and glanced at it. "Almost ten."

"Why don't we call it a night? I'll let Jean and Ororo know that we're going to head back to the hotel."

* * *

Five minutes later, they walked out of the club. "Jean said that everybody'll probably sleep in tomorrow morning. We can hit the museums and the other stuff in the afternoon."

"Sounds good to me."

The streets were still busy, but not unduly crowded, so they had little trouble getting back to the hotel. "Why don't you let me hit the shower first?" she suggested as they entered their room. "Then you can blast your back with hot water until it loosens up."

"Sounds like a plan." He looked in one of the closets. "Here's a robe," he said, tossing it to her.

"Thanks." She stepped into the bathroom and slipped out of the dress, then opened the door a crack. "Can you put this on a hanger?" she asked as she held the dress out to him.

"Sure." He took the dress from her, placing it in her closet.

After she finished undressing, she entered the shower and let herself relax under the spray of water for several minutes. A quick scrub removed the last of the perspiration that she had built up during the dance, and the body wash that the hotel had provided woke her up a little. She toweled herself off, dried her hair, then put on the robe, gathered up her clothes, and stepped out of the bathroom. "It's all yours," she told Will. "I made sure to turn the heat down before I left."

"Thanks. I shouldn't be too long." He had already changed into his robe, so he sat up with a grunt and went into the bathroom. He found that the showerhead had a pulse setting, so he set the spray for a massage and gradually turned the heat up as high as he could stand. After what seemed to be an impossibly long time, the muscles in his back began to relax, and he found that he had a bit more freedom of movement. Groaning with relief, he quickly washed his hair and soaped himself down. After rinsing himself off, he stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry. His new, shorter haircut was nearly dry within a minute after being toweled off, and he simply combed it back.

"You all done?" Rogue called through the door.

"Coming out now," he said as he hung the towel on the rack and opened the door.

"Feel any better?" she asked.

"A bit," he replied, just before his voice trailed off.

She had changed into a matching set of white satin bra, panties, and stockings, complete with a garter belt. "What do you think?" she asked.

"You look fantastic," he said after a moment. "Did you pay for that?"

"I asked Jean to pay from our cash reserves. I wanted to surprise you."

"You did that," he admitted, "and very pleasantly so, I might add."

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "Okay, lie down."

"Excuse me?"

"Since my shoulder feels as good as new, and _you're_ the one with muscle pain now, we're going to switch roles for the massage tonight. So come on, handsome, lose the robe."

Will thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "If it makes you happy," he decided. He removed the robe and settled down onto the bed. Rogue spread the sheet out over him, and he tucked it into place.

"Where does it hurt?" she asked after she lowered the lights.

"Lower back, right along my spine." He was startled a moment later, when he felt her weight settling over his hips as she straddled his back.

"Relax, Will," Rogue told him as she felt him stiffen. "This is as much for me as for you." After a few moments, the tension in his muscles subsided, and she began to apply firm but gentle pressure to his back. "I've never done this before, obviously," she told him, "so if I'm pressing too hard, let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he said in a contented voice. "I have to admit, though, this feels a little weird."

"Why, am I doing something wrong?"

"No, you're doing fine. I just mean that I'm not used to being on the receiving end. I'm usually the one giving the massage."

"You're usually the one who's giving, period. It's all right for you to be the needy one every once in a while, Will. Nobody's going to think any less of you."

"I know that," he said, "It's just that…. ohhhh, right there, please." He groaned in appreciation as Rogue applied firmer pressure to the base of his spine. "It's just that my instincts are to protect and take care of people. If I'm in a situation where I'm the one being protected, I feel like I'm not doing my job."

"And how long do you think you'll last if you're always the one who's shouldering the burden?" she asked in a soft voice. "I'll be honest, Will. Some of us have been afraid that you're going to burn yourself out."

"There's not much chance of that."

"Oh yeah? You already do most of the cooking, you do extra combat sessions with Logan and lessons with Jean and the Professor, you're trying to get us all set financially, you'll be training with Stephen again when we get back, you have your plans for the Underground, and you still have your personal financial work and social contacts to maintain. If you spread yourself any thinner, you'd be translucent."

He grunted. "I see your point. But, except for the cooking, all those things are things that I can only do myself. Even if I could find someone who could handle the work, I still need to deal with it personally."

"Maybe, but what about the grunt work, like your correspondence? That took you the better part of an afternoon."

"True," he conceded, "but let's be realistic. I'm not exactly in a position where I can call the local temp service and get an assistant. There's too much high-security, high-risk information to deal with, and I'm on the move so much that it would be nearly impossible to keep up with me."

"Good point," she admitted. "I'll have to think about it some more." She returned her attention to the massage, slowly moving her way up Will's back and towards his shoulders. Taking his right arm by the wrist, she slowly drew it back, stretching the muscles and feeling where the tension was greatest. She gently rubbed the tight bands of tissue, smiling as they relaxed under her ministrations. "I cannot believe how tense you are," she told him.

"I like to think of it as being extremely alert," he replied.

"If you got any more alert, you'd be paranoid."

"Who told you to say that?"

She snorted and moved up to his neck, where she found that she had to apply a degree of pressure that almost worried her. After a few minutes, however, the muscles yielded to her, and Will's head was soon lolling limply from one side to another. She felt a bit of pride at that accomplishment, and she moved down to his tailbone and buttocks, giggling a bit when she kneaded them as he had during her massage. "This is fun," she observed.

"I have no complaints," he replied.

She moved down to his legs, rubbing behind his knees and the muscles on the backs of his ankles. She then gave him a thorough foot rub, grinning when he rumbled incoherently in thanks. "Okay," she told him as she gave him a playful smack on the rear, "turn over."

He was silent for a moment. "Er, that might be a problem."

"Why?"

"You've succeeded in relaxing most of my muscles, but you've managed to tense a few up in the process."

"What do you…. oh." She blushed bright red as she realized what he meant. "Well, I can't say that I'm not flattered. The question is, what do we do now?"

"How about you turn around while I wrap myself up, and then we just go to sleep?"

"I can live with that. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

He laughed. "After my body realizes that it got itself all worked up for nothing, it'll relax."

She smiled and turned around. A few moments later, Will had settled back into the bed. "All done," he told her.

"Good." She turned back to face him. He was loosely draped by the sheet, facing away from her. "Don't turn around," she told him.

"Why?"

A moment later, a white stocking fell across his face before being drawn back.

"Oh."

Over the course of the next minute, the rest of Rogue's underclothes were thrown onto the bed. Will was nudged over a bit as she climbed into bed behind him and shut off the light. She wrapped an arm around his torso and settled into spoon position with him. "G'night," she murmured.

"Sweet dreams, m'love."


	42. Chapter 42

_**Author's Note**: I feel terrible that in the last installment, I forgot to thank those people who voted for both **The Archetype Association** and Will Riley in the recent (1999) CBFAA Awards. I didn't even know that Will was nominated for 'Best New Male Character' until I read the Award Ceremony. I am both flattered and honored by your support._

_And now, on with the story…._

* * *

Ororo woke up slowly, disengaging herself from the sheets and stretching as she yawned softly. She rolled onto her side to see Jean in the bed across from her, with her head still buried in her pillow. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was nearly ten-thirty in the morning. 

_What time did I go to sleep?_ she thought fuzzily. _I think we returned from the club sometime after three. Jean and I talked for an hour or so, and then I had another Tom Collins, and then…. I have no idea._ She shrugged mentally. _Oh well, I suppose that I couldn't have had that much more to drink._

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, then moaned and put her hands to her temples. _Then again…._

_Bright Lady_, she pleaded, _I already know that it was unwise to imbibe so much last night. There is no need to hammer the point home…. and even less need to use such a bloody big hammer. _Standing up in a manner which lacked her usual grace, she made her way to the bathroom.

Had Jean been awake, she would have heard an interesting sequence of sounds over the next few minutes: the patter of falling rain, the crackle of a small lightning bolt, a muffled curse, and the hiss of a shower being turned on.

* * *

Henry, who weighed nearly five times as much as Ororo, had barely been affected by the wine that he had drunk, so when he awoke at 10:45, he was in his traditional cheerful mood. This, of course, encouraged him to perform his traditional singing in the shower, which resulted in the traditional awakening of Bobby, and the traditionally accompanying thoughts of homicide. 

"You'd think that with graduate school, a Nobel Prize, and a vocabulary that English teachers would kill for, he'd have learned how to carry a tune by now." Bobby covered his head with his pillow and prayed that he was simply having a bad dream.

The snap of a towel across his rump a few minutes later convinced him otherwise.

* * *

It isn't generally discussed among the world of sorcerers, magicians, and, enchanters, but being a night person tends to be a prerequisite for the job. It's not that magic is, by its nature, something that should be hidden…. it's just that the type of person who compulsively gets up at five in the morning to do calisthenics is not likely to be open to the idea of spending hours staring into a cauldron. This is the primary reason why magicians are prone to find ways to turn lead into gold…. by the time they get up, the banks are usually closed, so they can't even get ATM cards. 

Strange awoke to the sounds of a scuffle in the room next door, which indicated to him that both Henry and Bobby were awake. "I wonder if Ororo would be upset if I shrink those two down and put them inside separate bottles for the rest of the trip," he thought out loud as he sat up and got out of bed.

After a shower, shave, and his morning meditation, Strange felt ready to face the world. He debated ordering himself breakfast, but decided to wait until the others were ready. He spent the next several minutes transforming his clothes into various styles, trying to decide what would be appropriate for the activities which they had planned for the day.

* * *

Will awoke very slowly, with visions of curves and shadows dominating his thoughts. Once he became aware of his surroundings, he found that Rogue still had her right arm wrapped around him. Moving very carefully, he took a pinch of the sheet between his index finger and thumb and gently took hold of her right middle finger, lifting her arm off of him. After sliding off the bed, he lowered her arm back onto the mattress. He gazed at her for a few moments, and his eyes grew misty. 

_She is so beautiful_, he thought to himself, _and I am such a lucky bastard_. He took the sheet that he had been wearing and draped it over her, covering her up to the neck. Bending down, he kissed her covered shoulder, then hurried into the bathroom before his bladder exploded.

After a very brief shower, he changed into a simple outfit of black jeans, white dress shirt, and a grey denim vest. After he put his gloves and shoes on, he walked over to the bed and gently shook Rogue's shoulder. "Time to wake up, sleepyhead," he said in a soft voice.

Rogue opened her eyes, yawned, then stretched lazily. "Morning," she said sleepily as she smiled up at him.

"Morning. The shower's all yours. I'm going to see who else is up and see if I can round us all up for breakfast…. or brunch, given what time it is already."

"That sounds nice," she replied with a smile as she rolled onto her side and cupped her chin in one hand.

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes soft and distant. "I have _got_ to buy a camera one of these days. I keep seeing these images of you that deserve to be kept somehow."

Rogue raised one eyebrow. "Maybe we can come up with a few shots for a private collection."

"For me or you?" he asked with a nearly identical expression.

"We'll talk." She sat up, wrapping the sheet around herself. "I should be ready in a few minutes. We can decide on a place to eat after you've kicked everybody else out of bed."

"I'm on it." He left the room taking the keycard with him.

Five minutes later, Will had determined that Ororo was dressed and ready to leave, Jean was nearly finished with her shower, Strange was prepared for a day of walking, and Henry and Bobby would pay him back whatever the hotel would charge him for replacing the damaged pillows. He knocked before entering his room again.

Rogue had finished dressing, and was brushing her hair. That wasn't so unusual, but the fact that was doing so while floating about three feet in the air, upside-down, would have turned a few heads. Will simply tilted his head slightly. "Problem?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine. It's just easier to brush out the kinks this way."

"If you say so."

Ten minutes later, everyone was in the lobby. "What sounds better," Will asked, "a late breakfast or an early lunch?"

"Why don't we just snack?" Bobby suggested. "I'll probably get something at the ballpark, anyway."

"You'd better get going if you want to get a half-decent seat," Jean advised him.

"Good idea. What do tickets run around here, Will?"

"I have no idea. I'm not a sports fan, remember? A Ben Franklin should cover a ticket, food, and souvenirs, and leave more than enough for your fare on the El."

"Where do you want to meet?"

"Let's make it the coffee shop at Union Station. That way you can get a bite to eat if anybody's late. You have your map, right?"

"Yep. Train schedule, too. See you guys later."

"Have fun," Jean called to him as he walked off.

"Shall we find a location at which we may partake of the local culinary delicacies?" Henry asked.

"Translation: Let's eat," Will said. "You have your choice of Chicago pizza, Chicago hot dogs, or an Italian beef sandwich."

"Or since it's you we're talking about, Hank," Rogue said sweetly, "we have the option of choice 'D', all of the above."

Henry shot her a look which mixed affection and annoyance. "Thank you, dear. Please remind me to place my medical instruments in the freezer the day before your next physical."

"Behave, children," Ororo said with a laugh.

"Why don't we just find a place on our way to the Institute?" Strange suggested.

"Sensible," Will agreed. "We can either stop somewhere or grab something from a vendor." He put on his hat, then offered his arm to Rogue, who took it with a smile. Strange offered the same service to Ororo, and they all made their way down the street.

* * *

Once Will had paid for their admission to the Institute, they agreed to meet one another at the entrance two hours later . Ororo went straight to the African wing, while Strange decided to look at the extensive collection of Indian art. 

"Do you have anything in particular that you'd like to see?" Will asked Rogue.

"Not really. How about you?"

"There's a collection of European arms and armor that I like, and an original Rossetti in another wing. They have the European art in chronological order, so we can just wander through it."

"Okay." She looked at Jean and Henry. "Are you two coming, or are you heading to another area?"

"I think we'll tag along," Jean said. "I've never really been into art, so I may need an explanation or two once in a while."

* * *

"Now that is a _big_ sword," Rogue said, looking at the massive, 1.25-meter blade. 

"It was used to hunt boar," Will explained. "See those things that look like fork tines? They were designed to keep the boar from hurling itself all the way down the length of the blade."

"What about this one with all the gears on the side of the blade?" Jean asked.

"That was an early attempt at a hunting gun. They were just starting to use gunpowder, and guns really weren't dependable yet. The idea was that since you'd get only one shot, if you were lucky, this setup would give you a traditional weapon to fall back on."

Jean nodded, then turned her attention to a mace. "Hard to believe that people would actually put work into making these things _look_ nice."

"Generally, none of these weapons were ever used. They were ceremonial, or status symbols. If a person could afford to pay for one, they were rich enough to get other people to do the fighting for them."

"What would the average soldier wear?"

"If they were lucky, they got a helmet…. which was usually made of boiled leather…. padded armor, a wooden shield, and a spear. None of which would do you much good against burning pitch, boiling oil, or molten lead."

"Ouch."

"War is never pretty. A lot of the people who owned these things forgot that." He sighed. "This is starting to depress me. Let's move on."

* * *

Rogue looked at the medieval painting and frowned. "What's with those freaky buildings in the background?" 

"The idea of perspective hadn't been developed yet," Henry explained.

"Oh." She looked around. "Where's Will?"

"I think he's a room or two ahead of us."

They found him a few moments later, gazing thoughtfully at a painting. Looking at it, Rogue recognized the style instantly. "Oh, you found the Rossetti."

He nodded. "_Beata Beatrix_." He glanced at Jean, then back at the painting. "Jean, could you stand over here for a second? Good, now turn a little…. tilt your head up slightly…. close your eyes…. what do you two think?"

"Pretty close," Rogue admitted.

"The resemblance is astounding," Henry agreed.

Jean glanced at the painting. "You really think so?" she asked.

"You probably would have made good money as a model back then," Will informed her. "Rossetti had a fondness for redheads."

"Thanks," Jean said, flattered. "Peter kept telling me that he wanted to do a painting of me, but he's never gotten around to it."

"Didn't you say this morning that you were going to start painting?" Rogue asked Will.

He nodded. "If my previous experience is any indication, it'll be at least a few weeks until I get to be any good. Sometimes it takes a while before the Chorus can hammer something into my brain."

"But you do develop the skill eventually?" Henry asked.

"Eventually. It took me the better part of three years to become a decent swordsman."

"That's right," Jean said, "I forgot to tell you. We're going to ask Charles to let you turn the old stables into a workshop. Maybe you can also use it as a studio."

"How big are the stables?"

"Huge. You'll probably be able to set up a few different areas for different things."

"Have you done anything artistic before?" Henry asked.

"Well, I've done some metalwork…. forging swords and such. I've also done pottery, woodwork, and I did some cabinetmaking and repair work on my cabin."

"Maybe once you've developed the skill, you can do a painting of me," Jean suggested.

"Maybe," Will agreed. "Actually, I'd like to paint all of you ladies."

"Warren might have a problem with you painting Betsy," Henry pointed out.

"Why would he…. oh, I see. You think he might decide that I have ulterior motives." He walked over to the bench in the center of the room and sat down. "I keep forgetting that other people don't categorize things the way I do. Maybe it's because I'm a writer."

"You just lost me," Rogue confessed.

"I use certain words to describe specific qualities when I'm talking about people. Those qualities can overlap, and a single person can have many of them. Example: I can say, without hesitation, that I think that you, Jean, Ororo, and Betsy are all beautiful women. That does _not_ mean that I have romantic intentions towards all of you."

Henry thought for a moment. "So to you, the word 'beautiful' implies physical beauty only."

"Not quite. I'd better run through all of them to be safe.

"_Beautiful_ means that the person has a quality that moves me emotionally. I've met many old women, and some little children, who were so beautiful that they moved me to tears. It's a quality that mixes both the physical and the spiritual.

"_Attractive_ means that the person affects me on a more intellectual level. A person who I find attractive may be extremely intelligent, have an interesting background, be a talented artist or a stimulating conversationalist, or simply have an exotic accent that I find intriguing.

"_Pretty_ means that the person is physically pleasing to the eye, but there isn't any emotional connection. The person is more eye-candy than anything else. Most of the women that I met in college fell into this category. Emma Frost fits there, too, since while she's undeniably a woman who's well put-together, she uses her qualities to intimidate and control people, which I don't respond well to.

"_Cute_ is a little harder to define. It means that the person sort of tugs at your heartstrings, in an amusing sort of way. Most little kids are in this group, although I've met a few grown women who also rate the description. They have that sort of grown-up pixie look."

"Freckles?" Henry asked. "Dimples? Laugh lines? They look like teenagers into their mid-thirties? I know the type."

Will nodded. "I differentiate that from _cutesy_, which is a commercialized, saccharine form of cute that's cynically used to manipulate people.

"Last is _sexy_, which is a quality that aims straight for your gonads. It's a quality that your body responds to, rather than your mind."

Jean nodded. "It's more of a hormonal thing."

"Exactly."

She considered that. "So you can say that in your eyes, I'm beautiful, but not sexy."

"Right. Ororo is both beautiful and attractive in my eyes, because of her physical qualities and the religious views that I share with her."

"What about Betsy?" Rogue asked.

Will thought a moment. "Well, now that I think about it, Betsy would be mostly pretty, because while I share a link with her due to the fact that we're both X-Men, I haven't bonded with her on any emotional level."

"But once you do, she'll become beautiful in your eyes."

"Once I get to know her well enough, yes."

"And what about me?" Rogue asked with a smile.

He smiled back. "My dear, you're the first person I've met who fits into all five categories."

"Aw," she cooed, "that's sweet."

* * *

"All this stuff was part of an altar set?" Jean asked, looking at the assortment of gold-plated goblets, crucifixes, and candlesticks from Spain. 

Will nodded. "I'm not sure, but I'd guess that it was in a family chapel or something similar. I doubt that they'd let the general public see this. They'd have had a revolution within a week."

"I can see why. If I knew that the people I paid taxes to had stuff like this when I barely had enough to eat, I'd start feeling a little murderous myself."

"If you think _this_ is bad, you should go to St. Petersburg and see the stuff in the Hermitage. It sort of makes you understand why communism got started."

* * *

"Has everyone had their fill of art for the day?" Henry asked when they all met at the entrance. 

"I enjoyed myself," Ororo said.

"So did I," Strange added. "I think I'll take a day off when I get back to New York and spend some time at the Metropolitan. I haven't taken advantage of the cultural opportunities available to me in a long time."

"See, Stephen," Will said, "you did learn something from this trip. Any arguments against hitting the gift shop and then finding someplace for lunch?"

"None here," Jean told him.

Will selected a book on the Institute's medieval arms collection, Strange bought a small fountain, Ororo chose a replica of a statue from the African gallery, Henry purchased a poster of the painting _American Gothic_, and Rogue decided on both a scarf that showed a silkscreen of Seurat's _A Sunday Afternoon On the Island of La Grande Jatte_ and a small bracelet made of Russian amber.

"So what's the consensus on lunch?" Will asked as they left the Institute. "Do we find a restaurant or go with the vendors?"

"I think I want to try one of those beefsteaks," Rogue mused.

"And I'm in the mood for pizza," Strange decided.

"The vendors it is, then." Ten minutes later, they were all seated in front of a fountain, nibbling on their choices.

Rogue's beefsteak was piled high with peppers and onions, and she moaned in appreciation as she ate. "Can you make one of these?" she asked Will.

He nodded. "I'll pick up a few containers of the beef before we head back. It's almost impossible to find the real thing on the East Coast." He was eating a plain beefsteak with a large pile of cheese fries on the side.

"What's next?" Jean asked him.

"We walk a few blocks to catch the El, then head over to Oak Park for the Wright tour."

"Okay. Any other shopping stops?"

"Not unless any of you see something that you just have to look at."

They finished eating a few minutes later, and started out for the train. After a while, however, Will made an abrupt turn and started walking across the street. Rogue saw his destination, and made a quick decision.

"Grab him, Hank!" She and Henry each took one arm and dragged him back.

"No, Will," she said firmly.

"But…."

"_No_."

"But…."

"_No!_"

"Why did you stop him?" Strange asked Rogue curiously.

"We'd never get him out of there."

Will gazed longingly at the storefront as they firmly led him away. The lettering on the door, _Godiva Chocolatier_, looked back mockingly at him as he turned a corner.

* * *

Ororo looked up and frowned. "Explain to me again how the chains are holding up the building." 

"Okay." Will pointed towards the ceiling of Frank Lloyd Wright's studio. "Wright made the roof so high that the stress on the walls would make them buckle out, so he attached the chains to the load-bearing beams, and then linked them all together with the ring of chain. The chain takes all the stress, and there's no need for any external support."

Ororo mulled that over for a few seconds, then nodded. "Magneto would love the idea. I'm surprised that he's never used it."

"I think that he'd be a bit more of a traditionalist. Wright's work is an acquired taste. You either love him or hate him."

"Well, I love what I've seen so far. Hiding a grand piano inside the wall was _very_ clever. So were the stained glass panels over the lights."

"I was surprised you weren't nervous while you were in there, 'Roro," Rogue commented. "I was expecting you to go a little claustro."

"I was astonished, too," Ororo admitted, "but the feel of the house was so…. organic, I suppose…. that I was absolutely comfortable."

"Well, our next stop on the tour, Unity Temple, is a lot more open."

"How so?"

"Wright came up with a brilliant concept. Once he realized that concrete and steel expand and contract in exactly the same way in response to heat, he was able to use reinforced concrete to construct the entire building. He pulled the load-bearing columns of the building in a few feet from the walls. That let him punch holes in the walls to let in light and make the columns architectural features in themselves. He called it 'destroying the box'."

"But he sometimes used the box as a theme," Henry pointed out.

"In his early works, yes, but he moved on to triangles, circles and spirals later as his work progressed."

"He designed the Guggenheim in New York, didn't he?" Rogue asked.

"He did, but he argued constantly with his patrons about that particular design. They kept trying to modify his designs, and he felt that any changes defiled the spirit of the buildings."

"That sounds a little egotistical," Jean remarked.

Will laughed. "Jean, the man was once sworn in as a witness for a trial. When he was asked to state his profession, he described himself as…. and I quote…. 'America's greatest living architect'. When the judge asked him why he used that particular phrasing, Wright said that he was sworn to tell the truth."

"Humility was not part of his nature, I see," Ororo said.

"Not in the least. Let's move on, shall we?"

* * *

"Okay," Rogue said as she sat down on a bench, "that's enough walking for me. Let's take a break." 

"Are you all right?" Will asked as he sat down beside her.

"I'm fine. I think I'm going to start jogging a bit more when we get back, though."

"We'll try to ease you into it," Henry said. "You're still off-duty for the next month, remember."

Rogue was silent for a long moment. "Excuse me?" she asked with a sweet voice and a steely gaze.

Henry, who was facing away from Rogue, failed to notice the way her eyes narrowed. "I thought I told you about that."

"No, actually, you didn't," she informed him in a frosty tone.

Will, who was looking at Rogue's eyes, sensed an impending eruption similar in scale to Krakatoa on anabolic steroids, and hastily stepped in. "We made that prognosis before you began the massage therapy. If you keep improving the way you have been, we might be able to shave some time off of that."

"That's right," Henry added, grabbing tight hold of the straw that had just been placed within his reach. "Besides, you might be able to spend the time helping Will build his workshop."

**_Nice save, Hank_**, Jean told him.

_Thanks_.

"Well, okay," Rogue grumbled. "I still don't like it, though."

"We all have our burdens to bear, dear," Ororo said.

Will glanced at his watch. "Why don't we hit the antique stores for a while, then head over to Union Station to meet up with Bobby?"

"I like it," Jean said as she stood up. "Let's get going."

* * *

They found an antique mall after asking around, and spent the better part of two hours wandering among the furniture, paintings, and other objects. Will purchased a Japanese _katana_, after carefully studying the blade, removing the hilt, and asking Rogue to translate the chop mark on the tang. 

Jean, who had been eyeing an end table, pointed it out to Will. "Do you think that would match the other furniture that's in my place?"

Will thought about it a moment. "I think it may be a little too dark. Your house has more of a country feel to it." He leaned over close to her. "Besides," he whispered, "it won't fit in the van, and I don't think that we want to tell the salesman how we're _really_ going to take it home, do we?"

"Good point," she admitted.

"If you like," he offered, "I can _build_ you something close to it. Or I could make a combination table, high-back bench seat, and storage cabinet. Given how little free space you have in your place, it's probably your best option."

"You can do that?" she asked.

"Sure. It's a pretty straightforward design. I'll draw up the plans for you when we get back."

"Speaking of drawing things up," Ororo reminded him, "didn't you say that you wanted to get started on those documents today?"

"Oh, that's right. Thanks for reminding me. Just let me make one purchase and take care of the shipping arrangements, and we'll be set to go." He walked over to one of the salespeople.

"What did he want to buy?" Jean asked Rogue.

"I'm not sure." They walked over to where Will was making shipping arrangements with the salesperson.

"Okay, so you can just make the delivery charges C.O.D.?" he asked.

"No problem. You should have them in about a week."

"There's no rush. Send them out with your next big shipment to New York, or make arrangements with somebody who's moving. I probably won't need them for a month or so."

"Need what?" Rogue asked.

"Those," he said, pointing at five _huge_ rotary saw blades leaning against a wall.

"What in the hell do you want with those?" she demanded.

"The steel is perfect for making knife blades. I'll have material to work with for years."

"Oh."

After over half an hour of wandering, they found a copy center, where Will spent about twenty minutes writing up the contracts for the X-Men. After he had finished typing, he motioned Rogue over to his side. "I'm going to have the boys at the Crypt set up an identity for you as May O'Hara. Why don't you sign using that as your name?"

Rogue nodded. "No problem. You still need to find a notary, don't you?"

"They've got one here, and the hotel can get your contracts off to the airport tonight. They'll find a courier without any hassle. Jeff should have them by noon tomorrow, Dublin time."

After everyone had signed, and the contracts had been notarized, they found the nearest platform for the El and took the train to Union Station. Will seemed to know his way around, and they quickly found Bobby at the coffee shop, sipping his iced latte.

"How was the game?" Henry asked.

"The Sox won, seven to four." He pulled a baseball cap out of his bag and put it on. "Everybody set?"

"We're going to go check out," Jean informed him. "Then Will's going to zap us back to Salem Center."

"Actually, we'll go to New York first," Will corrected her. "Stephen was out guest, so it's only right to drop him off at his place."

"That's not necessary," Strange protested.

"I'm in an accommodating mood, Stephen. Take advantage of it. There's no telling how long it'll be before I'm back to my usual cantankerous self. By the way, Jean, I do _not_ 'zap' people. I transit them."

"That's right," Ororo said. "Zapping people is _my_ department."

"Sorry, Ororo," Jean said politely. "I'll try to work on my terminology."

* * *

It took everyone about an hour to pack up everything and put it in the van. The sheer volume of things that they had purchased on the trip made closing the doors a bit of a problem, and it took a combination of Rogue's strength and a few telekinetic shoves to get everything into place. 

Will made sure to leave generous tips on the pillows for the maids, and rewarded himself for his generosity by taking all of the chocolates that had been left out. A quick swipe of his credit card at the front desk paid for everything, and the van pulled out of its parking space five minutes later.

"Is there anyone nearby, Jean?" Will asked as they started descending the ramp.

"No. No cameras, either."

"Good." A Door opened in front of the van, and Henry drove right into it.

"Where are we?" Bobby asked.

"The service entrance for my sanctum," Strange supplied. "Good aim, Will."

"Thanks. Need any help?"

"No need." He stepped out of the van, then waved his hand. The bags containing his things floated out of their storage places in the van and hovered around him. "Call me in a few days, once you're settled in again and feel up to getting back to your training."

Will nodded. "Thanks for all your help, Stephen. See you again soon." He closed the door to the van. Another Door opened in front of the van, and it drove on through.

Strange looked at the now empty spot for a few moments, then opened the door and went inside.

"I'm back, Wong!" he declared.

"Hello, Master," the younger man replied, too used to Strange's comings and goings by then to even blink. "Did you enjoy your trip?"

"It was a nice, relaxing vacation. I do, however, have some more questions about Mister Riley that need to be answered. That can wait until tomorrow, though.

"Right now, I'm taking a nap."

* * *

After checking to make sure that Graymalkin Lane was devoid of cars or pedestrians, Will motioned the van through. "Who has their smart card?" he asked. "Mine's packed away." 

I've got it," Jean said, pressing her ID against the identification plate. The gate opened with a click, and they drove on through. "I just let Scott and Charles know that we're back. Could you just drop me off at the house, Hank? Scott's there right now."

"'Ask, and ye shall receive'." Henry made the turn towards the lake, and they pulled up in front of the boathouse a few minutes later.

Scott walked out the front door as Jean and the others stepped out of the van. Without saying a word, he stepped up to Jean and gave her a long, lingering kiss.

"Not bad," Will said when they were done. "I would have given the two of you another fifteen seconds before hypoxia set in." He pulled Jean's packages out from the van and handed them to Scott. "I'd tell you to get some sleep, Jean, but your husband looks like he has other ideas. See you tomorrow." He started to get back in the van.

"Wait," Scott said before Will had shut the door.

Will turned around and looked at Scott steadily. "Yes?"

Scott took a deep breath. "I…. want to apologize.

"I had no right to say what I did to you. I was upset, and angry, and I took advantage of the fact that you'd been traumatized. I've had a lot of time to think since it happened, and I realized that I haven't been fair to you since you got here. That nearly got you killed when you went up against Apocalypse, and almost got all the X-Men killed too.

"I can't make up for what I've already done to you. All I can do is promise to start over, and try to work with you without judging you, both as an X-Man, and as a member of this family." He extended his right hand to Will.

Will looked at Scott for several long seconds before speaking. "Emotionally, I've just been through the wringer. I'm really not in any shape right now to make a decision like this. I need to rest, and recover, and center myself again." He stepped up into his seat and took hold of the door handle.

"Maybe tomorrow, I'll be willing to accept your apology."

He shut the door.

"But not today."

He was silent for the rest of the trip back to the mansion.

* * *

"Scott deserved what you said to him." 

Will turned around to see Rogue in his doorway. "I thought I was a little harsh, myself."

She shook her head. "He caused too much damage for a simple apology to be enough. He needs to prove that he meant what he said. You're done unpacking?"

"Almost. What did Henry say about your shoulder?"

"I'll be starting therapy for it in the morning. The Professor said you can look at the stables tomorrow, if you want."

He nodded. "Well, I'm hitting the shower for a while, then I'm going to bed. See you later?"

"Sure. Sleep yourself out, Will." She closed the door behind her as she left.

Will was annoyed with himself as he showered, convinced that he should have said something more to Rogue, although he couldn't decide just what. He grimaced in exasperation, then rinsed himself off and turned off the water. He dried himself off quickly, then put on his robe and walked into the bedroom.

"You took longer than I expected."

He looked up at Rogue, who was wearing a flannel robe and a bright red pair of silk, Chinese-style pajamas, complete with socks and gloves, that buttoned up to her neck.

"I don't really feel like I'm home yet," she explained, as she handed him a light pair of white cotton gloves. "I don't want to spend the night alone."

He smiled. "Neither do I." He put on the gloves and the pajamas that Strange had made for him, then shut off the lights. They both burrowed underneath the covers, and after he spent a minute rearranging the pillows, Rogue settled her head against his chest.

"Now I feel like I'm home."

* * *

_**Author's Notes**: Now that we've cast our votes on an actor to play Will, It's time for a contest! All you budding artists and photomanipulators out there can send me your vision of what Will Riley looks like! Just base your work on what's already been said about Will in regards to appearance, height, dress, etc., and send the scanned pic to either me, Lori, or Midnight. I'm interested in what **you**, my readers, see in Will. My personal votes for an 'established' artist to draw Will are Jim Lee (back when he was drawing** X-Men**), Dave McKean, or Bill Sienkiewicz during his **New Mutants** run. Please keep in mind that Will's eyes glow silver when his power is active, but the details of his eyes are still visible. I know that I'm dating myself here, but think of the glowing eyes of the choirboys in the video to the original cut of **Total Eclipse of the Heart**._

_I hope I did this correctly. I wanted my readers to see the Rossetti painting, **Beata Beatrix**, that Will compared Jean to, so I've included a link to it. It can be found at www..abcgallery..com/R/rossetti/.rossetti26.html/ Just remove the extra ellipses at the beginning. I needed to add them for the link to show on the page._


	43. Chapter 43

"Good morning, Xavier," Will said cheerfully as he walked by the Professor's office.

Xavier glanced at his clock. "It's a quarter past ten, so I guess that qualifies. How do you feel?"

"Pretty good. I wanted to thank you for letting me use the stables."

"We're not going to get any other use out of them," Xavier shrugged. "Besides, once you get everything established, you might be able to teach a class or two for the Massachusetts students."

"Maybe," Will agreed. "I'm going to take a look at the building later today. I'll draw up some plans to show you before I actually do anything."

"Fair enough. I can have a power line run over from the main house if you want."

"No need. I'd like to be able to say that I spent some of my own money on this little project. I think I'll look into buying a windmill and storage batteries."

Xavier thought about that a moment. "I like that idea. Sometimes I think we're getting too dependent on our Shiar technology. Something as simple as a windmill would be a nice change of pace."

"Well, it may be a while before I even reach that stage. I want to see what sort of work the building is going to need first."

* * *

"Okay, step one: Start shoveling."

Rogue and Logan, who had volunteered to help Will out, looked at the debris covering the dirt floor of the stable building. "Looks like some local critters took up residence," Logan noted.

"Nothing's all that fresh, though," Will replied. "I doubt that I'll be getting any unwanted visitors."

"What should we do with everything once we get it out of here?" Rogue asked.

"Ororo said that we could dump anything biodegradable onto her compost pile."

"Let's get started, then."

"I'll handle the wheelbarrow," Logan said.

After shoveling for the better part of an hour, they managed to clear away the refuse and expose the bare dirt of the floor. Will spent the next several minutes studying the condition of the wood used to construct the stables. "Set in concrete, treated with creosote. The roof looks like it could use some work, but the framework's in good shape. I'll have to slap on an extra few coats of preservative, though."

"How are you going to protect the wood from sparks?" Rogue asked.

"I'll buy some extra aluminum flashing when I fix the roof and nail a layer of it onto the studs closest to the heat."

"Sounds simple enough," Logan said with a nod.

"Want a closer look at the roof?" Rogue offered. When Will nodded, she wrapped an arm around his waist and flew him up to the top of the stables.

"Okay," he said to himself as he studied the timbers, digging into them with a penknife as he checked for insect damage. "Looks like standard tar paper and asbestos shingles. I might have to replace a sheet of plywood…. I think that OSB would be a bit stronger…. then strip the entire thing, put on a new coat of tar and reshingle. I wonder how much slate would set me back."

"Slate's expensive," Logan pointed out.

"True, but given the risk of fire, I think it would be a good investment. I'm done, Rogue."

"How will you set things up in here?" she asked as she lowered him back to the ground.

"I was just considering that. I think I'm going to keep the individual stable walls in place, and use each part for a different activity." Looking at the six pallets, which measured about two by three meters each, he pointed to each of them in turn. "Woodwork, office, pottery, tool storage, art studio, and materials storage." He walked over to the rear area of the building, which had been used to store hay and bridle equipment. "Since there aren't any walls back here, I think I'll build the smithy against one corner, and the kiln across from it."

Logan nodded in approval. "You want to use wood or coke for the smithy?"

"Coke would be hotter, but it takes forever to make. I might see if I can find a supplier."

"What about an anvil?"

"I placed an order for a thirty-pounder just after breakfast. It should be here by the time I'm done with all the prep work."

"What about bricks for the furnaces themselves?" Rogue asked. "And you still need wood for the fire."

"Well, I think a few hours of wandering in the woods will give me a good starting supply of wood. As for the bricks…. I think I feel like a walk over to the lake right now."

* * *

"You are absolutely the last person I thought I'd ever see playing in the mud," Rogue said with a laugh.

"Please," Will said in an offended tone, "let's get our terms straight. I'm playing in the _clay_."

Will had tossed his sneakers and socks aside when they had arrived at the shore of the lake, and was happily standing knee-deep in the water, running his fingers through the silt at the bottom and revealing the rich, red clay underneath. He pulled out several double handfuls, dropping them into a bucket that he had brought along, then walked back onto dry land.

"Now," he said as he sat down and buried his hands deep into the clay, "all I need to do is make a mold for the bricks and dig a deep hole."

Logan was confused for a moment. "Why dig a …. oh, I get it. You're going to make a fire pit."

"Right. Once I get a hot enough fire going, I'll set up a reflector over it, and put the bricks around the base. Of course, after the kiln is built, I can use it to make the bricks for the forge."

"What about the hole?" Rogue asked.

Will thought a moment, then looked at Logan. "Feel like helping me find a good, thick log?"

"No problem, but why?"

"Once the anvil arrives, I'm going to need to set it into the ground so that it doesn't fall on my foot. Here's what we'll do: we find and cut the log, then bring it back to the stables and dig a hole big enough to hold it. Once we're sure that the hole's the right size, I'll make some reflectors to put over and around it. The hole will be the fire pit, and I'll be able to make some headway on building the kiln and do the work on the roof at the same time. After the kiln is ready, I'll just dig out the ashes from the pit, put the log back in, and add enough dirt to hold it in place. Then I can attach the anvil."

Logan considered it. "Good plan. You get a few things done at once. What'll we need from the tool shed, then?"

"For now, just a chainsaw and a post-hole digger. But before we do that, why don't we let Xavier know what we're planning? I promised that I'd keep him in the loop."

"Gimmie a sec." Logan closed his eyes for a moment. _Chuck?_

**_Yes, Logan?_**

_Will's got his plans all set up_. He briefly outlined their intentions for the building. _You got any objections?_

**_None. It sounds like this can keep both Will and Rogue occupied for a while. Are you going to stay involved with the project?_**

Once I'm done with this part, I'll just let 'em know that I'll be around if they need me. I might help with the roof, too.

_**All right. Tell him I said it's fine.**_

_No problem, Chuck. Later_. "He said have a party," he informed Will.

"Great. Let's get those tools."

* * *

"What do you think?"

Logan looked at the top of the log. "Looks like it's in good shape. I remember the storm when it fell. It wasn't that long ago, so the wood should be pretty much solid. How long do you want it?"

"Well, I'd like it to be about seven decimeters or so in the ground, just to make sure it doesn't go anywhere while I'm pounding on it. Add the length above ground, and I'd say we need a meter total."

"Sounds right to me. Better stand back." He waited for Will and Rogue to get a few feet away, then put on his safety goggles and started the chainsaw.

"Just make sure the cuts are straight!" Will yelled above the roar of the engine.

Logan nodded and got to work. Three minutes later, he kicked the length of wood over onto its other side and shut off the engine.

Will walked over and looked at the log. "Good. No insect damage." He bent down and took hold of one end, waiting for Logan to do the same. "Rogue, could you bring the wheelbarrow over here, please?"

"Why bother?" she asked. "I can just throw that thing over my shoulder."

"Not until Henry gives you his okay."

"I have to agree, darlin'."

"Okay," she shrugged, "I guess I can't win this one. I've lost enough arguments with both of you to know when I'm out of my league."

Once the log was in the wheelbarrow, it was hauled back to the stables. At Will's suggestion, Logan extended one claw and made a mark on the wood that would indicate when it was deep enough in the hole. After checking the distances a third time, they marked a place on the ground.

"What can I do while you're busy at this?" Rogue asked.

"Well," Logan said, after considering it for a moment, "you can either build the reflector or gather up some firewood. Either way, you'll be saving us a step later."

"I think I'll make the reflector first," she decided. "Corrugated cardboard and a double layer of tinfoil, right?"

"Right," Will confirmed. "Make it conical, like a teepee, and leave a hole in the top for smoke and ash to escape."

"How big do you want it?"

"A meter wide and tall should do it. Make sure that it can be opened so we can add wood to the fire."

"Okay," she agreed. "I shouldn't take too long."

"We're not going anywhere for a while," Logan assured her.

Rogue returned about twenty minutes later, the reflector in one hand and a pitcher of iced tea in the other. "Here you go," she told them as she placed them both down. "I used that box that the new freezer came in. We'll have to get more tinfoil on the next shopping trip, Will."

"Just put it down on the list so I don't forget," he requested. He took a cup from her and poured for Logan first. "Oh, I needed that," he said as he drank his own portion.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"We were just about to check the depth," Logan informed her. "Ready?" he asked Will.

"Ready."

After tilting the log onto one end, they slowly lifted it straight up and shuffled over to the hole. "We _do_ have it right side up, don't we?" Will asked through clenched teeth.

Logan nodded. "I checked. Have we got it on target, Rogue?"

She bent her head down and checked. "Perfect. Bombs away!"

The two men counted down from three and let go of the log. It dropped straight down into the hole, bouncing slightly once it hit bottom. As it forced the air out of the hole, it sent up a plume of dirt which covered both of them.

Will sneezed. "That was fun."

"It worked, didn't it?" Logan pointed out.

"True. Now for the not-fun part."

"Right."

"Hold it," Rogue said. "Doctor's orders or not, I am not going to stand here and watch you two give yourselves hernias." She closed her eyes. _Jean, could you come over to the stables for a second, please? There's no rush._

Jean arrived a few minutes later. "What's the problem, Rogue?"

"Could you lift that thing out of there, please?" she asked, pointing to the log. "These two he-men won't let me help, and I'm not looking forward to seeing either one of them in a truss."

Jean smiled wickedly. "Oh, I don't know. It might be fun playing doctor."

Logan and Will gave Jean identical looks. "I have enough problems with Scott, thank you very much," Will said primly.

Jean laughed. "Step back, please." She took hold of the log with her mind and lifted it out of the hole. "Where do you want it?"

Will indicated a spot against the middle of the wall. "Could you just lay it on the floor there?"

"No sweat," she replied as she set it down. "Anything else?"

"That's it for now," Will said. "I think I'm just going to gather up some firewood for tomorrow. I still have to build a mold for the bricks, but I can do that tonight."

"You'll be making bricks all day tomorrow?"

"Probably. We had a leftover bale of straw, so I'll have a binding agent to work with."

"Why not make a few molds?" Logan suggested. "That way we can help you out."

"Are you sure?"

"Why not? I actually enjoyed doin' all of this."

"So did I," Rogue added. "It's sort of novel to spend the day hard at work on something that doesn't have any global stakes."

"Okay," Will shrugged. "I'll make one mold by hand, and you can run it through that three-dimensional Xerox machine in the basement." He picked up the wheelbarrow and started out. "Right now, though, I'm going to gather firewood."

"I'll come along."

"Me too."

"Me three."

* * *

Four people were able to gather together a sizable amount of firewood in a short time. "I never realized how much dead stuff was out here," Jean remarked.

"Well," Logan pointed out, "we've smashed, zapped, crashed through, or fallen through a good chunk of those woods over the years."

"Good point," Rogue admitted. "Think we have enough, Will?"

"This should be enough for the first few batches of bricks. I'll probably have to order cordwood once everything's set up. What time is it?"

"Just after six," Jean told him.

"I'll check the paper and see if any locals are selling wood. I think I'd like to keep this little project of mine electricity-free for now."

Jean's eyes became unfocused for a moment. "Hank says that you have half an hour or so until dinner's ready. Why don't we call it a day?"

"Works for me," Logan said.

"Same here," Will agreed. "I'll head down to the basement after we eat and make a prototype mold."

"First things first," Rogue told him. "You _really_ need to take a shower."

* * *

Henry kept dinner simple for the night, choosing to take some of the leftovers from the refrigerator and make soup from them. He baked a large batch of breadsticks as a side dish.

"Very good, Hank," Will said upon smelling the soup. "Let's see…. you used my last batch of chicken stock, mild sausage, meatballs, spinach, farfalle, carrots, and _lots_ of black pepper."

"You could tell that just from the smell?" Bishop asked.

"Well," he admitted, "the kind of pasta was a guess."

"How is the project going?" Ororo inquired as everyone settled in.

"We'll be spending tomorrow playing in the mud," Rogue said with a grin.

"Excuse me?"

Laughing, Rogue explained Will's plans for the next day. "Interesting," Ororo decided. "Would you mind an extra set of hands? I can't think of anything more back to nature than digging through the clay."

"Not at all," Will replied agreeably. "I just want to make sure that I don't take away too much clay. I don't want to damage the lakebed."

Xavier broke out into laughter. "Will, that lake's seen spaceships land in it. It's been boiled, frozen solid, and whipped into a frenzy. Losing a few pounds of clay isn't going to do it any more harm, I promise you."

"If you say so." He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and stood up. "I'll be down in the workshop if anybody needs me." He walked over to the elevator and descended.

Once Rogue and Logan were done, they decided to see what Will was up to. They found him working at the small table saw, cutting a series of slots in a piece of wood. "What's that?" Rogue asked him once he shut off the saw motor.

"Finger joint," he explained. "Once I get all the pieces cut, I'll join them together with glue, drill a hole through each corner, then keep the whole thing together with some dowels."

"Isn't that a lot of work for something that's going to get covered in mud?"

"Clay," he corrected. "I'm probably going to have to use the thing a few hundred times, so I may as well make something that's going to last."

Logan nodded in approval. "No shortcuts for you, then."

"Nope. When I build something, I build it to be around for a long time. I _hate_ the throwaway mentality. It's one of the reasons why I like antiques so much. At least you know you're getting quality work." Logan and Rogue fell silent as Will completed his cuts. Fitting the pieces together, he brought the mold over to the drill press, where he bored four quarter-inch diameter holes into the corners. He then selected a small dowel from the scrap pile, checked its length, and cut four equal sized lengths from it. He took the pieces apart again and slathered a generous amount of wood glue on the fingers of the joints. Placing the joints back together, he made sure that the holes were aligned, then tapped the dowels in with a small hammer. He finished by wiping off the excess glue and cutting off the exposed ends of the dowels.

"Very nice work," Logan said after inspecting the finished product, which had interior measurements that were two by three by six inches, the standard size for a brick. "What's the set time on the glue?"

"About an hour. Once it's dry, I'm going to go over it with a router and round off the edges. It'll make the molds easier to handle once they're wet."

"Good idea." Logan glanced at his watch. "It's almost eight-thirty. Why don't you two hit the sack early, and we'll start work right after breakfast?"

Will nodded in approval. "Feel like hitting the local home supply store with me once we have enough bricks? I still need to get tar paper, roofing tar, and a sheet of plywood, not to mention mortar."

"No problem. What about the slate?"

"I may have to special order that, but we'll see." He frowned. "Now that I think about it, I'm going to have to cut holes in the roof for the kiln and smithy chimneys. We'd better add a few more sheets of plywood to the list."

"We'll figure it out in the mornin'. Take a powder, both of you."

"Okay, okay," Rogue said, raising her hands in mock surrender, "we're going."

"Actually, darlin', I wanted to ask you somethin'." He glanced at Will, who just nodded and walked over to the elevator.

Once the elevator door had shut behind Will, Logan turned back to Rogue. "This is a personal question, so you don't have to answer it if you don't want to. How are you two doin' now?"

She smiled, both because she was touched by Logan's concern, and her certainty that he would be discreet. "We're doing okay. Once we got over the first hurdle, everything after it was pretty easy."

"Good. Next question: I caught a whiff of your scent as I walked by Will's room last night. I've gotta ask: what's goin' on between you two? I just want to make sure that you're both all right."

"It's not what you think. We just hold each other. We talk, and we sleep. That's what's so great about being with him…. there's no pressure to do anything else."

He nodded. "Good. I'm glad to see you're both playin' it smart."

"If it makes you feel any better, he's still letting me call all the shots."

"I was expectin' that. I'm just worried about whether he'll let you know if _he_ wants to slow down."

"What do you mean?"

Logan sighed. "Think about it, kiddo. It took what was essentially a nervous breakdown to get him to admit how he felt about you. Now that he's let his guard down, though, he may be edgy about tellin' you if he's uncomfortable about anythin'."

"I hadn't thought of that," she admitted after a moment of consideration. "I might have to drag things out of him."

"Don't get too nosy," Logan cautioned. "I just wanted to give you somethin' to think about. Go get some rest, darlin'. You still need recovery time."

"Don't worry, I intend to take it. I still feel like I've got some dirt on me, though, so I'm going to take a nice hot bath before I go to bed."

"You should let Bobby know that. He'll never get to sleep."

"Now _there's_ a thought," she said with a wicked smile as she started up the stairs.

Saying goodnight to Ororo and Henry as she passed by them, Rogue walked up the stairs to her room, where she found a note taped to her door. Opening it, she found a note written in Will's small, unruly print:

_Surprise for you inside. Relax. Sleep late. Remember, you're still on vacation._

_Love you,_

Will 

Smiling, she opened her door, then gasped in delighted surprise as she walked in.

Her bedroom and bathroom had been filled with a multitude of glowing candles, in various sizes and colors. They were stacked onto her night stand, dresser, desk, and vanity. A dozen long-stemmed red roses lay on top of her bathrobe, which had been removed from her closet and placed on her bed. A large wicker basket, placed next to the roses, held an assortment of bath oils, salts, bubble bath, body scrubs, facial masks, and several varieties of shampoo and conditioner.

After she had slipped out of her clothes, tied back her hair, and donned the robe, she picked up the basket and entered the bathroom, where she found that her bath had already been drawn. The amount of steam rising from the tub told her that Will had remembered that she liked her water much hotter than the average person did. A small bowl placed on the lip of the tub held still more rose petals. A TV tray had been placed next to the tub, holding a plate of apple and pear slices and small, foil-wrapped chocolates, and a champagne flute stood next to a small ice bucket. Rogue laughed out loud when, upon opening the bucket, she found that Will had decided to give her a choice, providing her with small bottles of both champagne and sparkling apple cider.

_A gentleman to the end_, she thought to herself as she popped open the cider bottle and poured herself a glass. She removed her robe and placed it on the towel rack (where, she noticed, Will had placed her favorite fluffy towel), then sank into the hot water with a sigh of pleasure. After a few moments of indecision, she added some peppermint bath salts and some of the rose petals to the water, then applied an apricot face mask and lay back, letting the heat and fragrances draw the stress and tensions of the past few days out of her body.

After an indeterminate amount of time, which allowed her to emerge from the tub feeling refreshed, supple, and blissfully sensuous, she toweled herself off and went back to her bedroom, blowing out the candles on the way. A moment of searching produced a vase to hold the flowers. Three minutes later, she had curled up in her nice, warm bed, with the light of one remaining candle helping her drift off to sleep.

* * *

Logan was already eating when Will came down for breakfast the next morning. "Mornin'," he mumbled as he ate his waffles.

Will appeared, for once, to be both fully awake and in a good mood. "Morning," he replied cheerfully, taking the milk form the table and pouring some into a Pyrex measuring cup. "I was thinking that we might want to hit the lumber and hardware store early…. unless you've got a training session."

"No, I'm free 'til lunch. Which van do you want to take? Yours or the Institute's?"

"The one that I bought _is_ the Institute's, as far as far as I'm concerned. We might want to give it a once-over, though. Let's use the other one until you get to take a look at it." He sat down and sipped at his cocoa.

"Makes sense. Okay, we'll get going once you're ready."

"Just let me finish this," Will said, lifting his mug, "and I'll _be_ ready."

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the local hardware and lumber superstore. "Want a cart?" Logan asked as the automatic door opened for them.

"I think we'll need one," Will said with a nod.

"Do we have a list?"

"Here." Digging into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Let's just walk the aisles, though. I may have forgotten something, and I'll probably remember it if I see it."

"It's your nickel," Logan shrugged.

After an hour, they had selected enough supplies to satisfy Will, and a clerk helped them load the OSB panels into the van. Logan and Will handled the rest, and they were on their way a few minutes later.

"Why don't we just drop everything off at the stables?" Logan suggested as they entered the Institute grounds.

"All right. No reason to make more than one trip, anyway." Logan nodded and drove over to the stables, backing up to the door. Will got out and opened both the stable and van doors.

Logan cut the engine, then stepped out of the van and helped Will unload everything. "How long did they say it would take for the slate to come in?"

"Two days or so. That's why I got the tarp: to keep things dry until then."

"Want me to get the staple gun?"

"Why don't we take a break? We'll pick up the gun and the molds, and see if the ladies are ready to get started. I want to change clothes beforehand, anyway."

"Okay. Actually, it might be a good idea if we take care of the roof first. Three of us can handle that, and the other two can get the fire started."

"Good idea." They walked back to the mansion, where Logan went down to the workshop to gather the tools. Will went upstairs to the women's wing and knocked lightly on Ororo's door, which opened a few moments later.

"Good morning, Will," she said with a smile. "Is everything ready?"

"All set. Logan and I already picked up the supplies, so we can get right to work."

She nodded. "Give me a few minutes, and I will meet you at the stables."

"Take your time. It's not like we're on a deadline. Can you contact Jean for me, please? I still have to wake up Rogue and change into my work clothes."

"Of course."

Will smiled, hopped down the steps, and tapped lightly on Rogue's door.

"Who is it?" was the muffled response.

"It's Will. We'll be getting started soon, so…."

He was interrupted in mid-sentence as the door was jerked open and something was thrown over his head. Before he realized what was happening, he was pulled forward into Rogue's arms and given a kiss which could probably have caused Bobby to spontaneously combust…. while in his ice form.

He staggered slightly when she released him, then took a deep breath. "I have no idea what that was for," he confessed as he pulled off the sheet, "but I'm not going to lodge any complaints."

"That was for being such a wonderful man," Rogue told him with a smile. "You gave me just what I needed last night."

"I'm glad you liked it. How do you feel?"

"Fabulous!" she said with a look that would brighten a dark room. "Are we all set outside?"

"We can start as soon as you get there."

"Great! I'll be just a few minutes." She took the sheet from him and shut the door.

Will went to his room and changed into an old pair of jeans and a ratty T-shirt, then put on a pair of work boots. A few seconds of rummaging through his closet produced a pair of duck boots, which he tied together by the laces and slung over one shoulder. He then went downstairs to help Logan.

* * *

"Okay," Jean asked fifteen minutes later as she looked at the stable roof, "what's the best way to handle this?"

"Why don't you, Logan, and Rogue work on the roof," Will suggested, "and Ororo and I can get the fire set up for the pit?"

"That works," Logan agreed. "We won't be tripping all over each other."

"_Allez oop_," Jean said, lifting up Logan and the tools as she ascended towards the roof. Rogue floated up beside them, holding the sheet of plywood. Logan pulled out the old panel, shingles and all, and let it drop to the ground. He and Rogue positioned the new sheet, making the seam as tight as possible. Jean handed them both the nails, and Logan hammered them in, while Rogue chose to simply use her strength to push them through.

Will, meanwhile, had quickly set up several layers of sticks, decreasing the thickness of the wood as each layer was added. He finished by setting up a small teepee of twigs at the top of the stack, which he filled with a small wad of loose cotton. Ororo simply watched with interest…. her only contribution to the exercise had been to keep the wind at a minimum.

"Finished," Rogue announced from above them

"Where'd you put the tarp?" Logan asked Will.

"Here you go." Will walked over to the pile of supplies, removed the tarp from its wrapper, and tossed it to Jean, who caught and unfolded it mentally. Logan and Rogue nailed it into place, and they were all back on the ground a minute later.

"It's not perfect," Logan conceded, "but it should keep things dry until the slate goes up."

"That's all we need it for," Will reminded him. "Now for the messy part of today's plans." He took several plastic buckets and the molds that he had made and placed them in the wheelbarrow. "Could somebody get the hay and that old panel of plywood in the corner?" he asked.

"I've got them," Jean said. She followed the others to the lake, where Will changed into his duck boots. "I'll dig out the clay," he volunteered, "and you can mold it."

"That's all right," Ororo said as she kicked off her sneakers and waded out to join him. Since her powers made her resistant to temperature extremes, she had simply worn shorts for the day. She and Will quickly filled the wheelbarrow with clay.

"Now what?" Rogue asked.

"We mix in some of the straw as a binding agent," Will told her. "Then we just fill up the molds and put the bricks on the panel. We should be able to put between twelve and sixteen bricks around the pit at one time, so we ought to try to keep the total that we do today at a multiple of four."

"Right." She ripped several handfuls of straw off the bale and tossed them into the wheelbarrow, mixing them in by running her fingers through the clay.

Once it seemed that there was enough straw to keep things solid, Will dipped his mold into the water to make it slightly slippery, placed it on the sheet of plywood, then took a double handful of clay from the wheelbarrow and molded it into a roll that was vaguely brick-sized. He dropped the roll into the mold, then pushed it into place with his fingers, attempting to remove any air bubbles. He then lifted the mold up, allowing the brick to slide out and remain on the sheet. "Any questions?" he asked.

"It seems straightforward enough," Ororo replied. "How much space should we leave between the bricks?"

Will thought about it. "Better make it about a finger's width between them on the long side, and two on the ends. That should give us enough room to grab hold of them so we can put them in the pit."

Everyone nodded. "I'll start at the other end," Rogue said. "That way we won't have to worry about my accidentally absorbing anybody."

Half an hour later, after pausing twice to refill the wheelbarrow with clay, they had made about sixty bricks. "That should do it for today," Will said. "It's going to take at least a day to bake all of these."

"I may be able to cut that down by reducing the local humidity," Ororo suggested. "I can do it while we work on something else."

"Will it be a strain?"

She shook her head. "I can just keep it in the back of my mind."

"All right. Let's move these into the stable." They each picked up a corner of the panel and shuffled it over to an area next to the pit. "Rogue, could you please move the reflector out of the way?"

"No problem." She picked up the reflector, which was slightly hot to her touch, and placed it to one side.

Will quickly placed twelve bricks around the edge of the pit, then tossed several handfuls of sticks into the fire. "I might move a sleeping bag in here," he mused. "I'll be adding wood to this fire almost non-stop for the next few days until I have enough bricks to make the kiln."

"You'll need mortar," Rogue reminded him.

"I want to have enough bricks to work with before I start mixing anything. Besides," he pointed out, "I still have to cut holes for the chimneys."

"Good point. What can we do while we're waiting?"

"I'd suggest working on the doors," Logan advised, looking at the old barn-style door, which was cracked and rotting.

"Okay. I figure I'll need about forty-eight bricks for the base of the kiln, anyway. The total number for the kiln will be about five hundred bricks."

"And how long will each batch take?" Ororo asked.

"Probably between eighteen and twenty-four hours. That's the standard time."

Rogue did the mental arithmetic. "That means that the kiln's going to take forty-two days to make."

"I can probably cut the drying time in half," Ororo pointed out. "That cuts it down to three weeks."

"And then I can keep both the kiln and the pit going twenty-four hours to make the bricks for the forge," Will finished. "Which gives me plenty of time to get everything else done."

"Seems like a slow process," Jean commented.

"It's not like I'm on a deadline, Jean. I'm doing this for fun. If I started pressuring myself over the time, that'd be defeating the whole purpose."

She nodded. "So you're going to be camping out here for the next few weeks?"

"I doubt it. Once the kiln is done, I can just add fuel every few hours or so and leave it be. I just want to make sure that I have the process down right."

"Okay. Want us to move a bunk out here?"

"I think I can stand one night in a sleeping bag." He glanced at his watch. "It's almost lunch time. Why don't we take a break?"

* * *

"How's the workshop coming along?" Bobby asked them as they sat down at the table.

"Slowly," Will replied, "which is just what I want. What are we having?"

"Meatball sandwiches and salad."

"Sounds edible." He looked at Xavier. "I may need to let an unauthorized vehicle on the grounds sometime in the next day or so. I have to get some wood for the kiln."

Xavier nodded. "All right. How much are you going to order?"

"I think I'm going to get two full cords. Better too much than too little."

"Good idea. We're running a little low ourselves."

After lunch, Will leafed through the paper and found someone who was selling cordwood. Will made his day by offering to buy everything that he had if he could deliver by that evening. Once that was done, he went back to the stables and added wood to the fire, then got to work on the door.

Rogue came by about half an hour later. "Need any help?" she asked.

"I think I've got it. Sit down, relax." She did so, watching as he tore off some of the rotten pieces of the door and replaced them with new lumber.

"What are you going to do with the scrap?"

He looked at the old pieces of cedar, which were nearly stripped of paint, and removed the nails. "Just toss them in the fire," he told Rogue, handing them to her. "No need to waste them."

"Okay." She dropped the wood into the pit, blinking at the blast of heat which hit her as she opened the reflector. "Wow," she said to herself. "I wasn't expecting it to get _that_ hot."

"It's got to be able to bake all of the moisture out from the bricks," Will pointed out.

"True."

Will bolted the new pieces of wood into place, then tested the balance of the door. "That should work."

"Won't this place get cold in the winter?"

"Probably, but I'll have either the kiln or the forge going, so that should warm the place up."

"What about when you're working at your desk?"

"I may just move the desk closer to the fire."

She nodded. "Is there any other work you need to do on the building?"

He thought about it. "I'm going to have to add some rain gutters eventually. I'll just put a fifty-gallon drum at the base of each downspout."

"Why?"

"I'm going to need _something_ to quench the iron when I'm done working with it."

"Okay, that was a silly question. I just…." Her voice trailed off for a moment. "Betsy says that the guy is here with the wood."

"That was quick. Ask her to let him know that I'll be there in a few minutes." He started running down the trail towards the main gate.

"Wait for me."

Will ran quickly, but not at enhanced speed, and so was able to reach the gate in a few minutes. Rogue flew after him, but landed running once she got within visual range of the truck.

"You Pearson?" Will asked the grizzled old man behind the wheel.

"Yep. You Riley?"

"Yep. Mind if I just hang on the side and point the way?"

"Nope. Hop in, little lady."

"Thanks." Rogue sat in the passenger seat, and the truck pulled up beside the stables a few minutes later.

"Where do you want it?" the old man asked.

"How about near that tree over there?"

"You got it." Pearson backed the truck up to the indicated area, then used the pneumatic pistons on the truck bed to tilt it back, dumping out the wood into one huge pile. "Sorry it's not split, but you didn't ask for that."

"That's okay," Will told him. "I could use the exercise, anyway." He pulled out a wad of bills and paid the agreed price, and the truck was on its way a minute later.

"You're going to split all of _this_?" Rogue asked as she looked at the massive heap of wood.

"Why not? All I need is an axe, a sledge, and a wedge." He paused a moment. "Hey, that rhymed."

She rolled her eyes. "I think we've got what you'll need in the basement."

"Good. I'll have to get my work gloves, too."

A few minutes of searching produced the desired tools, and Will was soon swinging the sledge over his head, splitting the wood into manageable pieces. After a while, he began to work up a good sweat, and had to strip off his shirt, causing Rogue to whistle in appreciation. "Aren't you going to have to let this dry out?" she asked him.

"Now that the fire's hot enough, I should be able to just drop it in. As long as I don't add too much green wood at one time, I should be fine." He started stacking the split wood into a tidy pile.

Will had taken care of a respectable portion of the wood by the time Logan walked over to announce that dinner would soon be ready. "Not bad," he complimented Will, seeing how much work he had done in a short time. "Maybe we'll have you moonlight as a lumberjack."

"No thanks. I've never developed a penchant for women's clothing, and I hate bar crawling."

"No, I beg you," Rogue moaned as she added some more wood to the fire, "no Monty Python jokes."

"Oh, please," Will begged with a perfect Michael Palin impression.

"Stop it," Logan warned him.

"He said the word!" Will cried an a high-pitched voice, then ran as Logan and Rogue both started chasing him back towards the mansion. "He said it! Oops, _I_ said it! Ack, I said it again! Oh no, I said it…."


	44. Chapter 44

Will's eyes opened up as the kitchen timer beside him started beeping. Standing up with a yawn, he shrugged the blanket off his shoulders and shuffled over to the woodpile. Taking three large pieces of wood, he returned to the fire pit and nudged the reflector open with a stick. Shielding his eyes from the blast of heat, he tossed the three logs into the pit. A quick glance at the bricks showed that they were baking well. _Eight more hours should do it_, he thought to himself as he pushed the reflector closed again.

"How's it going?"

He glanced up at Rogue, who was closing the stable door behind her as she entered. "Pretty well. This batch should be ready in the morning. Once they cool, I can start the base for the kiln."

She nodded. "You sleeping okay?"

He shrugged. "About as well as I can when I have to get up every hour to add wood."

She glanced at the sleeping bag and blankets on the ground. "I wish you'd let me put a bunk in here."

"Believe it or not, this is actually better for my back. The Army cots that we have don't give any back support. I'd be walking around looking like a question mark."

She smiled. "We can't have that. There's already somebody walking around calling himself Quasimodo."

"Wasn't he a halfback for Notre Dame?"

She rolled her eyes. "I swear, I'm starting to think that the better you feel, the worse your jokes get."

He chuckled as he sat down on the blankets again. "What are you doing up at this hour anyway? Isn't it almost two?"

She shrugged. "I had some stuff piled on top of my night table, and it slid off. I spent about half an hour trying to get back to sleep, then decided to see what you were up to."

"I'm okay. I'm just not used to getting up this often, that's all."

"That's why I came to help out." Noticing his look of confusion, she explained. "I was thinking we could trade off on the watch. We'll each get four hours sleep that way."

He smiled. "I just can't counter such flawless logic." He offered her one of the blankets, and she happily curled up beside him, nestling her head in his lap. Will repositioned himself so that he was also lying down, cushioning his head on the bundled sweatshirt that he was using as a pillow.

"This isn't exactly a rug in front of the fireplace," she decided, "but it isn't bad."

"I'm glad you approve. What's been going on inside?"

"Not much. Bobby short-sheeted Logan's bed, so now he's hiding on the roof."

"You think he'd learn eventually."

Rogue sniffed derisively. "He'll never grow up. We'll all be old and in the Home for Retired Superheroes, and he'll either be icing up the whirlpool tub or trying to look up the nurses' skirts."

Will laughed silently, causing his abdomen to tremble slightly beneath Rogue's hair. "Suddenly, I've got the mental image of Henry chasing him around the poker table where Logan, Bishop, Johnny Storm and Ben Grimm are still playing their endless poker game. Meanwhile, Ororo is zapping anybody who gets too close to her flower beds."

"And Warren's complaining about how the young people don't know how to fly anymore," she added with a giggle.

"And the entire island of Manhattan has been rented for the cross-time, pan-dimensional Summers family reunion."

She laughed out loud at that. "That's mean."

"I could see the maitre'd at the dinner." He switched to a deeper, more formal tone. "'Would that be the clone or non-clone section, madam? I'm sorry, sir, but we do have a dress code. However, if you're not carrying enough angst, I'm sure that one of your relatives will be happy to lend you some of theirs.'"

By this point, Rogue was laughing out loud, nearly at the verge of tears. "Stop, please," she begged.

"And then the XSE could handle security. Of course, there'd be the problem of finding places to hold the dragons, winged horses, red wolves, and space whales. Can you imagine what the vet bills and paperwork would be like?"

"Okay, okay, enough," she told him as she got herself back under control. She rolled over, resting her arms on his chest and propping her chin up so that she could look him in the face. "This conversation has become way too silly."

"It got a laugh out of you, though," Will noted.

"You can always make me laugh," she said as she rested her cheek against his chest. She was silent for several seconds as she stared into a crack in the reflector, watching the flames crackle within the pit. "You meditate by staring into a fire sometimes, right?"

"Mm hmm," he replied drowsily.

"What do you see?"

"It's different every time. I just let the Chorus lead me along."

"Can you show me?"

He gave her a surprised look. "Are you sure? It's not always a pleasant experience. I don't have any control over what I see."

"I trust you, Will. I know you'd never hurt me intentionally. Won't you be right there?"

"Right next to you."

"Okay then. What should I do?"

"Look into the fire," he said in a soft voice. "Watch the flames dance and tremble. Let your mind wander along with them. Try not to think about anything…. just float up with the flames."

Rogue's breathing gradually slowed, and her pupils dilated as she let her attention start to drift. Her body went limp as she relaxed, and she lay sprawled atop Will's body, her eyes staring off into space. As her vision became unfocused, all of the colors melded into a featureless grey.

"There is a secret song at the core of your being. This is not Fact. This is Truth. You have always known that this is true. You've never had to think about it, but it has always been there, in the hidden, private parts of your soul.

"Listen, now. Not to me, to yourself. The song is there. It's always been there, waiting for you to notice it. Listen."

Rogue listened.

And she heard.

It was similar to Gregorian chant, but only in the way that a bass boat is similar to a cruise ship. A multitude of voices joined in song, pouring out the essence of their being through the music which permeated her body and soul.

_Do you hear it?_ Will's voice whispered inside her head.

_You're in my mind?_

_No_, he chuckled, _we're both inside the Chorus. The boundaries between minds are a bit more fluid here._

_I can't see you._

_Wait a moment_. A part of the chaotic greyness started to become a bit more defined. After a few seconds, it coalesced into a human form, and Will's features came into focus soon after. _How's that?_ he asked, turning his glowing eyes towards her.

She studied him closely. _You look a little older._

_I may not have many years, love, but there's a **lot** of mileage_. He studied her for a moment. _Do you want some help with your form?_

Rogue glanced at her 'body', which was little more than a basic outline. _Can you do that? Stephen said that an astral form takes practice._

_The rules are a little different here. Hold that pose._ Strangely, she felt a mild tingling sensation for a moment. _There. That's much better. _

_Is there any way I can see myself?_

_No problem._ He waved his hand casually, and a patch of the greyness hardened, taking on a reflective sheen.

Rogue looked into the 'mirror' and gasped. She took her _own_ breath away. She was wearing a diaphanous, flowing gown, almost brilliantly white, which billowed and undulated in a nonexistent breeze. Her hair floated lazily about her, as if she were underwater.

_Is this how you see me?_ she asked. Had they been physically speaking, she would have whispered.

_Only partly. Mostly, this is how you really are_. He gave her a gentle, fond smile. _I told you that you were beautiful._ He held a hand out to her. _Shall we go?_

She reached out to take it, then hesitated. Will noticed it. _These aren't physical forms, Rogue. They're just visualizations. You don't have to worry about your powers here._

Rogue thought about that for a moment, steeled herself, then gently placed her hand in Will's. Nothing happened.

_Wow_, she marveled. _This is unreal._

_Wrong choice of words, love. This is about as real as things get. Ready to go?_

_To where?_

_We'll find out soon enough. Now, just relax and let yourself drift. Allow the music to carry you along._

Rogue let the mental tension slide off her 'body', and soon they started gliding over to what she arbitrarily labeled her 'left'. Glancing over in that direction, she saw what resembled a path, similar in appearance to the 'mirror', which stretched off into the distance. _Where does that go? _she asked.

_Why don't we find out?_ Will glanced at the path, and they slowly hovered towards it.

The instant their 'feet' touched the path, they accelerated to a phenomenal speed, although there was no sensation of movement. A bright light appeared on the horizon, which rapidly approached and enveloped them. Rogue felt a brief sensation of vertigo and then….

* * *

….she stepped over the keel timber of the longboat and handed the drinking horn to the captain. It was grained in one gulp, then tossed back to her with a shrug.

As she turned around and carefully walked back to her place in the prow, she stumbled and started to fall. Just before she banged her knees on the deck, however, she was caught and gently hauled back onto her feet.

"Are you all right?" a voice asked her.

"Yes, great sir, I…." Her voice trailed off as she recognized her helper. "_You?_"

"Me," the grey-haired man replied. "Look around. See if you can remember where and when you are."

"Remember?"

"We're traveling through a realm of memory and legend. Right now, you're a part of this story, so you can remember what led you to this point. Think…. why are you here? What are you here and now?"

She wrinkled her forehead for a moment. "We're going…. on a raid?"

"Very good. Where?"

"Um…. Ireland?"

"Ira-Land, actually. That's what they call it, anyway. The Nordic languages can't pronounce. 'Erie'. What do you do here?"

She looked down at her threadbare clothes. "I guess I'm a slave."

"Good guess. So am I, by the way."

"Why did we wind up here?"

He shrugged. "This is where the path led us. Apparently, there's something that we can learn here."

"Any idea what?"

"Well," he said, turning so that they both faced the bow of the longboat, "let's look at the situation. "We're in the middle of a totally empty ocean. All we can hear is the wind against the sail. Look up," he instructed her, doing so himself.

She looked up and gasped. The sky was absolutely brilliant with stars. The Milky Way, which was little more than a smudge of color in twentieth-century New York, blazed its trail across the sky.

"Wow," she said again. "It's…. it's…. I can't find the words."

"You don't need them. Just let yourself _be_ for a little while. Don't try to think."

She sat quietly next to him in the darkness, enjoying the feel of the ship bobbing up and down with the waves. After a while she sidled over and leaned against him, placing her head on his shoulder. "This is why they went out," she whispered. "It wasn't so they could conquer anything or get away from home. They just had to get out onto the ocean like this."

"Having six screaming kids and a nagging wife probably helped, though," he said with a chuckle. "Ready to see something else?"

"Could we?"

"Right away." The path appeared in front of them, and they were off again.

* * *

She bent down and gathered a handful of reeds from the water, placing them in her basket. She looked up and squinted against the midday sun, adjusting her woven hat to shield her eyes.

"Any guesses now?" a voice asked her. She turned to the speaker, an older man who was, like her, knee-deep in the mud.

She looked around and studied the manicured terrain. "China."

He nodded. "Han Dynasty…. not that it matters to serfs like us."

"First a slave, then a serf," she mused. "I'm starting to detect a pattern here."

"History is written by the rulers," he said soberly, "but it's experienced by the common man…. a tale that can be read in the very earth." He reached down into the water, pulling out a handful of yellowish mud. "This ground has already felt the weight of countless feet. Armies, pilgrims, and vagabonds have crossed it, and the Great Mother has claimed them all, existing in Her own time."

She nodded, then glanced down at her reflection in the water. She had classic Asian features, brown eyes, and black hair which was pinned back. "I don't look half-bad," she noted.

"You couldn't be anything less than absolutely beautiful," he said sincerely. "It doesn't mater to me what form you take."

She smiled shyly, then looked down at the road below them. "Someone's coming."

"Nobility, by the looks of it," he observed. "Too many people for ordinary travelers, and most of them look like servants."

"Pretty pudgy servants," she pointed out.

"They're courtiers," he said with distaste. "They haven't worked a day in their lives. Their days consist of intrigue and plots, trying to get closer to the center of power. Money that could help entire provinces goes into bribes and assassinations." He shook his head sadly. "What a waste."

"But the people just go on."

"No," he disagreed, "individuals go on. Thinking of individuals as a featureless mob demeans all of them. People who want to change the world from the top down always forget that, so they're going to fail. Without the single notes, there wouldn't be a Chorus."

"If that's your philosophy, then why did you build up a fortune?"

He shrugged. "Money is a tool, that's all. It's one way to achieve one's goals. It was finance, politics, or religion, and I only considered myself corrupt enough to go into the first."

She giggled. "Anything more here?"

"I don't think so. Let's move on." A heartbeat later, they were back on the path….

* * *

….and sucked into darkness.

She looked around frantically, trying to find him (_who was he?_). A rising panic began to swell within her, one which could not be vocalized because she no longer remembered how to speak. She dropped to her hands and knees and scrabbled around her, desperately seeking a place to hide.

Sensing another being nearby, she started running, not knowing or caring where she went, as long as it was _away_. She heard it behind her. Pursuing. Seeking. Hunting her down.

She stumbled and fell, then looked over her shoulder with terror clutching at her heart. A dark figure loomed over her, reaching out…

* * *

She awakened and scrambled away, huddling against the wall and trembling. Looking around, she saw a building which was suddenly unfamiliar, and a shadowy figure which stood up and started moving towards her. She shrank back as it squatted down in front of her and regarded her intently.

"It's all right, Rogue," it said in a soft, familiar voice. "Come back out now…."

She blinked, then shook her head to clear it. "Will? What happened? What the hell _was_ that?"

"We went a lot deeper than I had planned," he apologized. "We were remembering a time when people were still hiding from predators during the night."

"Why couldn't I talk?"

"Language hadn't been developed by that time, so it wasn't an option, I guess. Are you okay now?"

She nodded. "I think so. I just freaked out for a few seconds."

"Do you want to go back to your room? I can send you straight there."

"I don't think I want to be alone after that. Could we just cuddle for a while?"

He smiled. "Sure." They wrapped themselves up in the blankets again and lay back down. She quickly fell asleep in his arms, while he just started into the fire, letting his mind drift and listening to her own, special music.

* * *

The next morning, Will tossed one last batch of wood onto the fire, then headed back to the mansion with Rogue. After showering and tossing his smoke-infused clothing into the laundry chute, he went down to the kitchen for breakfast, where Logan, Bishop, Xavier, and Betsy were already eating. Betsy was cooking a traditional English breakfast, so Will chose the oatmeal, deciding that it was the most palatable option.

"Do you feel up to going back on duty yet?" Xavier asked him.

He nodded. "I think so. If Henry gives me his stamp of approval, I'll do some training sessions later."

"Good," Henry said. "Both you and Rogue are scheduled for physicals after breakfast, so you can run through an individual scenario immediately afterwards."

"After you're done with Hank," Logan said, "you can come down to the armory. I got the guns you asked for."

"What models did you decide on?" Bishop asked.

"I got a Randall nine mil, and a Benjamin Sheraton fifty-cal."

"Why did you choose the Benjamin?"

"No markings or serial numbers. Besides, the barrel's brass, so that should help against guys like Mags."

"What's the length of the rifle?" Will asked.

"About ninety-three centimeters."

Will frowned. "That's a bit long. What if you cut off the stock?"

Logan thought about it. "That'd make it about sixty."

"Why don't you do that? Then I'll be able to carry it inside my coat."

"Not a bad idea. I'll play around with the strap a bit."

"If you three don't mind," Xavier interrupted, "I prefer to have discussions on deadly weapons restricted to lunch and dinner."

* * *

Henry's examinations of Will and Rogue proved them both to be fit for light duty. "Your shoulder's in much better condition than I had anticipated, Rogue," he said as he put his instruments away. "I think that Will's massage therapy did you a world of good."

"There was a bit of accupressure involved, Henry," Will said from behind the curtain. "I think that might have helped."

"Possibly," Henry admitted. "I think I'll modify your session this afternoon so that you two work as a team, rather than as individuals. Since you're a couple so much in your off time, you should get some experience in working together in case of a surprise attack."

"That's a good idea," Rogue said as she finished getting dressed. "Can we pull up some of the old files that we used to use for Ilyanna?"

Henry considered that for a moment. "I don't see why not. It'll take some time, though, so why don't we just make this session a straightforward fight against drones?"

Will and Rogue looked at one another, then nodded. "That sounds fair," Will said. "Let's get started."

After they both changed into their uniforms, they walked into the staging area of the Danger Room. "_I'm going to start you out with three-to-one odds and move up from there_," Henry told them over the intercom. "_The skill levels of your opponents will also increase accordingly_. _They're all flesh-and-bone analogues_."

"Got it," Rogue confirmed.

"'Let slip the dogs of war'," Will added.

"_Hey_," Henry objected, "_Shakespeare is **my** department_."

"He 'doth protest too much,'" Rogue observed.

Several panels opened in the floor, and six combat drones, armed with various blade and energy weapons, ascended onto the arena. Quickly circling the pair, they bent forward slightly, their weapons causing a slight hum in the air as they powered up.

Will and Rogue quickly stood back-to-back, not allowing an opening for the robots to separate them. "Any suggestions?" Will asked.

She thought for a moment. "When you sparred with Logan, you let the Chorus lead you along, right?"

"Right," he replied as he kept an eye on their opponents.

"Can you do the same thing for me?"

"I don't see why not. Let your mind drift again." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Do you hear it?"

Her gaze wandered off for a moment, then refocused. "Yes."

"You see what to do?" he asked.

"It seems easy enough."

"Ready, then?"

"Ready," she replied.

"Let's rock."

* * *

Henry walked into Xavier's office a few hours later, interrupting his conference with Ororo and Scott. "Charles, you absolutely _must_ see this."

"Can it wait?" Xavier asked, somewhat annoyed at being interrupted.

"I don't think so," he replied, taking the keyboard to Xavier's computer and accessing the Danger Room files. "The ramifications may be too great."

"What is it?" Scott asked, suddenly interested.

"Will and Rogue just finished their training session."

Scott glanced at the clock. "I thought that you wanted to start them out just after their physicals."

"I _did_, Scott."

"They were occupied in that session for three hours?" Ororo asked incredulously.

"Yes, but I feel that more importance should be placed on _how_ they held the program at bay for that long." He paused as the opening documentation for the session appeared on the screen. "Rogue asked Will to let her experience the link that he has with the Chorus during combat. Watch carefully now."

They all studied the video intently, watching the drones surround the pair. "I think I saw it," Ororo said suddenly.

"Saw what?" Scott asked.

"Go back about ten seconds, Henry." After the digital record was 'rewound', she pointed at the monitor. "Look at their stances. It's a bit difficult to tell because of Will's coat, but once you account for their different body masses and centers of gravity, they're starting from identical fighting positions."

"There's more," Henry said, moving the 'tape' forward again. "Rogue, like most of the second generation of X-Men, was trained in unarmed combat by Logan, so her style reflects his influence. But look at this." He set the record on 'play' again.

For the next several minutes, they watched as the recording progressed. Will and Rogue moved in perfect tandem, each completing the other's maneuvers: Rogue would, for example, toss a drone over her shoulder, and Will would disable it with a sweep of his sword.

"They're acting like they've worked together for years," Xavier noted.

"That's not too surprising," Scott said. "They _have_ been working together pretty closely."

"True," Henry agreed, "but there's something else. That isn't Logan's style that Rogue is using. It's Will's."

Ororo studied the screen closely. "You're right."

"But Will hasn't taught Rogue any of his combat skills," Xavier said. "At least not that I know of."

"And watch here," Henry continued, pointing at the screen again.

Will drew a dagger from the sheath at the small of his back and tossed it lightly behind him. Rogue, without even turning around, snatched it from the air and hurled it at a drone, shorting it out.

"Would anyone like to explain to me how she knew the knife was there?" Henry asked.

"Her sixth sense?" Scott suggested.

"No, that only kicks in when she's in danger," Xavier disagreed. "That dagger was hardly a threat to her."

"And Will knew exactly where to throw it," Ororo pointed out. "He seemed absolutely certain that she would catch it."

"The next three hours are more of the same," Henry told them. "I started winding it down when I felt that the threat level was becoming excessive." He advanced the record still further. Rogue and Will continued to decimate their mechanical opponents, slowing down slightly as the odds against them decreased.

As the final drone clattered to the floor, the pair once again assumed identical stances. They both closed their eyes, inhaled deeply, let the breath out, then opened their eyes and walked towards the door. Will opened the door and gestured Rogue through, closing it behind him as he followed her.

"Neither one of them was injured," Henry said as he turned off the monitor, "so there was no need for a medical evaluation. You might want them to give you a debriefing, however."

"We'll give them a chance to rest first," Xavier said. "They'll need time to clean up, anyway."

"Actually, Charles, they should almost be finished. Rogue asked me to let you know that she'd be up as soon as she could. She seemed anxious to talk about the experience."

"What about Will?"

"He said that he wanted to ground himself, so he went to his room to meditate for a few minutes."

"Probably a good idea. I don't feel like replacing any more appliances."

Rogue stepped into the room a few minutes later, still toweling off her hair. "I have got to talk to you guys!" she exclaimed as she sat down. She was grinning from ear to ear, and her eyes sparkled with delight.

"We just finished reviewing the tape," Ororo told her. "You were both very impressive."

"Impressive?" she snorted. "Face it, Ororo. We kicked butt."

"We wanted to get your feelings on the experience," Xavier told her. "What was it like being liked with the Chorus during the session?"

Rogue became more animated, gesturing with her hands as she answered. "Professor, it was one of the most…. amazing…. incredible…. phenomenal things that's ever happened to me! I…. I don't even know where to begin!"

"How about the beginning?" Ororo suggested. "What did it feel like the moment that Will linked you?"

She thought for a moment. "It was like having the volume on a stereo turned up so that I could hear the music. Only this stereo was _inside_ me, not outside. I was suddenly able to understand things that I hadn't even noticed before."

"Like what?" Scott asked.

"You've seen how Will fights, right?" She waited for the answering nods, then continued. "Well, he's not really fighting as much as he's…. I was going to say dancing, but I don't think that's the right word. It's more like he's taking cues from the music."

"I don't get it."

"Ever watch a movie with a soundtrack?"

"Sure."

"Well, that's what everyday life is like for Will. He's always got a tune playing in the back of his mind, and if he listens to it closely enough, and in the right way, he can tell what's going to happen in a future scene."

"Scene?"

"'Life is but a stage,'" Will said as he walked in and sat down, "and a lucky few of us get to see the dress rehearsals."

"Could you be a little less obscure, please?"

Will leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his mustache. "Think of an event in time as a note in the air. When I listen to the music of the Chorus, I look for patterns and themes…. things that tend to repeat themselves. There are enough parallels and recurring events in history for certain things to pop up from time to time. I get a bit of sound that I can recognize, and that gives me a good idea of what might be about to happen."

Scott mulled over that for a moment, then shook his head in frustration. "I'm sorry. I still don't understand."

Rogue thought about the problem for a few seconds, then turned to Will. "I've got an idea."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the five of them met in the observation deck for the Danger Room. Rogue had changed into her uniform, and Will had brought down a violin from his room.

"So you want to divide the room in two?" Ororo asked.

"Right," Rogue confirmed. "Just set up a wall right down the middle."

Xavier nodded, and after a few moments of typing, a featureless wall, eight feet in height, appeared in the center of the room, dividing it. "Now what?"

"Give Will a chair to sit in, facing away from the wall. Do you have them, Jean?"

"Right here," Jean replied, handing Rogue and Will each a pair of earphones. "They'll generate a white noise pulse which should keep you from hearing anything."

"Just make sure to keep the threat level at low," Rogue told her. "I don't feel like getting pounded."

"So just what _is_ the plan here?" Scott asked.

"I'm going to run through a combat session. Will's going to listen to the 'music' that I make while I'm fighting, and duplicate it as best he can on the violin."

"Make sure that you record this," Will requested. "I don't know how aware I'm going to be of what I'm doing. I might not remember it later."

"Are you both ready?" Ororo asked.

"All set." Will replied.

"Me too," Rogue added.

"Starting sequence now," Xavier said. As soon as he finished speaking, he turned on the white noise generators.

Rogue quickly went into a defensive stance. At the same time, Will touched his bow to the strings of the violin. He slowly drew it across, then back, creating a sound which suggested anticipation.

Xavier tapped at the controls, and a series of openings appeared in the walls surrounding Rogue. A few seconds later, a foam cushion shot out of one, heading straight for her. Just before she kicked it aside, Will drew the bow down sharply, perfectly matching the duration of her movement, and reversed the note as she recovered.

Several more cushions flew towards her from all four sides. She dealt with them by flying up a foot or so and spinning around, grabbing two of them and using them as makeshift clubs to bat the others aside. As before, Will's notes preceded her movements by about half a second.

"They're right," Scott observed as he watched Rogue bat her targets aside. "It _is_ like a soundtrack." He paused for a moment. "Seems a little out of sync, though."

"That may because it's predicting the action," Jean pointed out, "and not in time with it."

"Probably," he agreed.

"It looks like Will's running just over half a second ahead of events," Xavier said as he looked at the computer readout.

"He's not disrupting the system?" Jean asked with some surprise.

"It doesn't look like it. Probably because he's not actually doing anything, just monitoring her. It's a passive role, not active."

"Like using a long-range microphone instead of planting a bug."

"Exactly." Xavier looked down at Rogue as she drop-kicked a cushion across the room. "Let's start winding it down. She's had enough of a workout for today, and I don't want to push her too hard."

Xavier slowed down the fire rate for the cushions, and Rogue gradually became more relaxed, while still throwing them aside effortlessly. Will also slowed down, increasing the length of the notes while decreasing the tempo. As Rogue stepped into her ending stance, Will finished with one final, low note, which seemed to linger in the air for several heartbeats, before he lifted the bow off the strings.

"If that is what Will experiences all the time," Ororo said thoughtfully, "I'm amazed that he doesn't withdraw completely."

"We can't be sure what the normal…. volume level, I guess, is for him," Jean mused. "It may not be as dominant on a day-to-day basis as it was just now. He _did_ say that he was focusing his attention on Rogue's 'music'.

"That's true," Henry said. "He's not normally as intent on one thing as he was just now. He usually divides his attention between several things at once."

"All right," Xavier told Will and Rogue as he shut down the program, "you can both take the rest of the day off. You might want to think about eating out tonight."

"Why's that?" Rogue asked.

"Logan's cooking."

"We'll be gone by five."

* * *

"What are you in the mood for tonight?" he asked once she had changed into casual clothes.

"I'm not sure. I'd like to try something different. Any ideas?"

"How about Moroccan?" he suggested. "I know a nice place in Manhattan. They have lamb shish kebabs, baklava, mint tea…. and as an extra treat, male _and_ female belly dancers."

"That sure sounds different enough. Feel like driving there? It looks like it's about to rain, and I don't really want to get my dress wet."

"If you feel up to braving Manhattan traffic, it's fine with me." They borrowed Warren's Saab and were soon underway.

As they stepped into the restaurant, Rogue's nose quickly picked up the smells of several kinds of spices and oils. "Smells good," she noted.

"I think you'll enjoy the food," Will said as they were led to a table. Since it was early in the evening, and a weeknight, they found themselves seated alone, on cushions surrounding a low, round table built for eight. They faced a small stage built against one wall, which had a small set of stairs leading to floor level.

"Would you care to order anything to drink?" the waiter asked them in a heavily accented voice. He was dressed in a rather elegant white suit and had a red fez perched on his head.

"Just Coke for me, please," Will requested.

"Club soda, please," Rogue added.

"Would you be interested in the dinner special for two?"

"What's included in that?"

"Lamb or beef shish kebabs, seasoned carrots, couscous, meat pie, baklava, and mint tea."

"That sound good to you?" she asked Will.

"Excellent. Will there be dancing tonight?"

"Yes, sir. One show every half hour."

"Thank you."

The waiter nodded with a smile, then went to the lounge to get their drinks.

Rogue glanced down at the table. "He forgot to give us silverware."

"You eat with your fingers here."

"Oh. We'd better be careful, then."

"As long as we don't make a grab for the same thing, we should be fine. Oh, that reminds me." He reached into his shirt pocket and placed a small plastic packet on the table. "You might want to use these."

"Earplugs?"

"The music here can get pretty loud. Better safe than sorry."

"Good point."

Their first course arrived about ten minutes later. Rogue tore a piece off the ball-shaped pie and tasted it. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "That _is_ good. Very spicy."

"I thought you'd like it." He took a piece for himself and sat back. A moment later, very loud music began playing from speakers in the corners of the room.

A man stepped out from behind the curtain, dressed in a turban, baggy pants which reminded Rogue of parachute gear, shoes with long, pointed toes, and an intricately embroidered vest which showed off a muscular chest. He held a large, curved sword in one hand, but Rogue's trained eye immediately saw that it was a fake. She and Will put in their earplugs and enjoyed the show.

Will admired the dancer's skill with the blade, as he watched him twirl it overhead and toss it into the air, catching it easily. Rogue found that she was interested more in the way that he could make his abdominal muscles 'dance' by rolling them up and down. "Do you think you could do that with _your_ stomach?" she asked Will once the music had ended.

"I'd probably wind up in a full body cast."

"But then I could play nurse," she said with a wicked smile. She leaned back as the next course came out, then tore into the spiced carrots with enthusiasm.

Half an hour later, the music started again, and they put down their shish kebabs and turned their attention to the stage.

The dancer who stepped out this time was female, and, Rogue had to admit, _very_ attractive, with dark brown eyes and raven-black hair which was nearly waist-long. She was dressed in a red bikini top and diaphanous red silk pants which allowed the silhouette of her legs to show through. She had bracelets on her left ankle and right wrist, composed of tiny bells, which chimed as she moved.

The music picked up in tempo, and she began to sway in time with it, raising her arms above her head and moving among the patrons, occasionally pausing in front of someone and shimmying about for a few seconds. Rogue noticed that while some of the women smiled in admiration of the woman's skill, while others appeared to be jealous, the men invariably turned beet red with embarrassment.

As the dancer moved towards their table, Rogue studied Will's face, curious about his reaction. He kept his eyes on the performer, studying her movements carefully, but his face remained impassive. This was apparently taken as a challenge by the young woman, who threw herself wholly into the dance. Her hair floated about her wildly as she spun around and threw her arms wide, displaying her obviously feminine attributes in a manner which made _Rogue_ blush.

Will managed to maintain an unemotional expression until the music ended, at which point his face went red enough to throw off any orbiting satellites with thermal scanners. Rogue broke into laughter upon seeing his expression. "I _knew_ she'd get to you eventually!"

"You have to admit," he said with an embarrassed grin, "she knows how to work with what she has." They both joined in the applause as the young woman bowed gracefully and ducked back behind the curtain.

The rest of the meal passed quietly, and the dessert of baklava and mint tea provided some entertainment when the waiter filled the demitasse-sized cups by holding the teapot nearly a meter above them, not spilling a drop.

As they got ready to leave, Rogue asked Will to excuse her for a few minutes. "Little girls' room," she explained.

"Take your time," he told her. "I'll wait outside."

A few minutes later, she left the restroom and headed for the front door. Before reaching it, however, she noticed that the female dancer was now working behind the cash register, dressed in a black pantsuit. On impulse, Rogue walked up to her. "I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed your show," she said.

"Thank you," the young woman said with a smile. "It takes a lot of energy, but I enjoy it."

"You managed to make my boyfriend blush."

The returning smile was naughty. "That's the part I enjoy most."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"What's that?"

Rogue leaned in close.

"Do you give lessons?"


	45. Chapter 45

"All set?" Will asked as Rogue walked out of the restaurant.

She nodded, then raised an eyebrow as he put one hand to his side. "You okay?"

"My phone's buzzing." He removed it from his jacket and activated it. "Riley." He listened for a moment, then nodded. "All right. We'll be there in a few minutes. Out."

"What is it?"

"Forge got a few days of surprise leave, so he decided to pay us a visit and show us what he's whipped up for me."

"How do we get the car out of the parking garage?"

"I'll just open up a Door. You distract the attendant for a minute, and I'll drop a twenty into the booth."

"Distract him how?"

He grinned. "Use your imagination."

* * *

"I have to admit," he said as she parked the car, "that was one hell of an effective distraction."

"Well," she replied, "I saw the air grate on the floor, I thought of Marilyn Monroe, and the rest fell into place." She cut the engine, and they stepped out and walked towards the front door of the mansion.

"I think the kid left eyeball prints on the glass," he chuckled.

"It's always nice to be appreciated. We're home!" she announced as they walked in.

"Hi, guys," Jean said cheerfully. "Forge is in Charles' office. They're waiting for you."

"Both of us?" Rogue asked.

Jean nodded. "Mystique gave him some stuff to give you, and he's got some new equipment that he'd like you to try out."

"Okay." She and Will walked to Xavier's office and tapped lightly on the open door. "That didn't take long," Xavier observed from behind his desk.

"We took a Door," Will explained. "Pleased to meet you, Forge," he said, shaking the man's hand.

"Same here," Forge replied. "Valerie didn't tell me much about you, and I admit that I'm curious."

"Me?" Will scoffed. "I'm an open book."

"Written backwards," Rogue commented. "using a mirror. In invisible ink. In Sanskrit."

"Well, sure, there's _that_…."

"Hi, Rogue," Forge said. "Your package is over there. Raven threatened to fillet me if I didn't give it to you."

"Did she say if there was anything private inside?"

"There's a letter. I think the rest is mostly clothes and books."

"Okay. What's the equipment Jean said you had for us?"

"Well, I have two things for you." He opened up one of several cases lying on the coffee table, removing a small case and handing them to her with his bionic hand. She opened it to reveal a pair of green earrings. "The left one is a new communicator. It picks up your spoken words from the vibrations in your jaw and sends incoming signals straight to your inner ear. In a best-case situation, you could send a message and get a reply without ever opening your mouth. It's always on, but it'll vibrate if a message is coming in. Just tap it to activate."

"What's the other one?"

"A combination locator, pulse monitor, and body thermometer. It'll send an emergency signal if your vital signs become dangerously erratic."

"Cool."

"And for you, Mister Riley," Forge continued, opening another case, "I have these." He removed several objects.

"These lapel pins also serve as a communicator and locator. They're larger than an ordinary pin because I added as much shielding for the electronics as I could without affecting their functions." He held one in each hand. "You should be able to keep them on your person without any problem. They'll also beep or vibrate."

"They'll clip onto my uniform?" Will asked, looking at the pins, which had the standard red-and-black 'X' insignia on them.

"Just like any other lapel pin."

"How do they pick up vibrations?"

"They don't, unfortunately. The microphone's keyed to your voice. Now," he said, picking up the next object, "this cellular phone piggybacks its signal onto the nearest commercial cellular band and uses the satellite software to re-encrypt itself. It bounces the signal over seven or eight satellites, so while there _is_ a slight communication delay, the signal is virtually untraceable. Like almost any other cellular phone, it can also be set to beep or vibrate."

"Very nice," Will said, taking the phone and looking at it. "Also insulated, I assume?"

Forge nodded. "Once you take off the insulation, the thing's about the size of a credit card."

"And lastly, the piece that I'm most proud of." He lifted out an object similar in size to a loose leaf binder. "This notebook computer has a five hundred terabyte capacity, a one thousand hour battery…. rechargeable, of course…. language-adjustable keyboard…."

"How did you manage that?"

"You can't see it, but there's a thin layer of liquid crystal suspended under the surface of each key. When you tell the computer to switch to a different language, the crystals reconfigure themselves to reflect the standard keyboard for that language."

"What's the personal security?"

"Thumb print on the touch pad…. by the way, the track ball pops out from here…. voice print, and retinal scan from the camera. That's the small bar here, just above the screen. It'll also allow real-time communication.

"This media tray reconfigures itself to read whatever's put into it. Right now, it'll accept regular floppies, Zip disks, Superdisks, CDs, MDs, DATs, microcassettes, and audiocassettes. It'll also write to any of them. This adapter will read VHS and Super-8 cassettes. I used a blue-laser technique that was just developed. You'll be able to write three times the usual data onto an ordinary CD-RW disk. I bought you a case of one thousand of them, by the way. You'll be able to burn a disk in about five minutes.

"The operating system is indistinguishable from Windows, but it can reconfigure itself to work with almost anything. If the industry standard changes, I'll be able to upgrade you through the mansion systems.

"It uses the same communication protocols as the phone, but the data compression ratio is so tight that it'll be like working on an ISDN line or a cable modem. The communication software is designed to set you up a ghost account on whatever server you dial into and erase all traces after you log out. It finds the nearest, fastest local server and works through them."

"One last question, Forge," Will interrupted. "This _does_ have a word processor, right?"

"WinWord's latest, with a few improvements. Last gimmick: see this slit just above the monitor? It's a document scanner. Place the page face up into the slit, and it'll scan it in half a second. You'll be able to transmit documents as fast as you can run them through."

"I love it," Will said as he hefted the computer. "This is also insulated?"

Forge nodded. "That accounts for most of the weight. As long as your powers aren't running super-hot, you shouldn't have any problems. If they are, just turn it off. I made sure that even if it's in its carrying case, it'll fit into the side pockets of the seats on the Blackbirds."

"Nice touch. Now I only have one problem."

"What's that?"

"Resisting the temptation to install Quake."

* * *

As Will stepped out into the hallway, carrying his new equipment, Logan saw him from the kitchen and waved him over. "You got some time?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I want to clear you on your new guns. Show you how to take care of them, adjust the sights if they need it, that sort of thing."

"Okay. Just give me a minute to put this stuff in my room."

Five minutes later, the two of them stepped into the armory, where Bishop sat waiting for them. A pistol and rifle lay on the table beside him. "Meet your new friends," he said in a businesslike tone. He hefted the pistol in his left hand. "The Randall Firearms B-122 nine millimeter. Single-action, holds eight rounds in the magazine, plus an extra in the chamber." He attached a small cylinder to the muzzle. "This is your suppressor. Cuts the noise by about half. I'm modifying a holster for you. It should be ready tomorrow."

Will took the pistol from Bishop and examined it. "You took off the grips?"

"It reduces the silhouette. The texture strips I added should give you a secure grip."

"This is a mirror image? Ejects to the left?"

"Yes. You'll train with standard rounds, but I'll load some plastic rounds for you."

"Good. How many spare clips do we have on hand?"

"Four."

"Do we have any depleted uranium on hand right now?"

"I'll look into it. Now, I could have manufactured a laser sight for you, but Logan and I decided that it would be better to use off the shelf technology. I'd like to avoid another Cable incident if I can."

"You just lost me," Will admitted.

"Cable had a habit for a few years of using throwaway guns. The inner workings self-destructed an hour after being used, so they couldn't be analyzed, but they became his calling card to the agencies that wanted to talk to him."

"He's admitted that it wasn't one of his brighter moves," Logan added. "If we use ordinary tech, then we can replace it easily, and it's harder to trace."

"So," Bishop said, opening a small box, "you'll be using the Wilcox Modular Special Operations Smart Sighting Unit. It has two parts. The laser unit will send either a visible or infrared beam. The beam can be set to either be solid, or to one of seven blink rates. That might allow you to send a signal of some kind.

"This spotlight sends out both visible and infrared beams. It also has a dimmer switch. Forge gave us some long-life batteries, so they'll both run for about forty-eight hours each."

"Will the units work if they're not attached to the gun?"

"Yes, but why?"

"I might be in a situation where I need to use the laser to distract an enemy, or to send a signal to you when I can't be around. Or I may need to use the spotlight as a work light, or use it to calm down civilians."

"Good planning," Logan said. "Okay, let's get started."

For the next hour, Will took apart and reassembled the pistol until both Logan and Bishop were satisfied with his competence. He then practiced speed loading and ejecting magazines filled with blanks. Finally, he donned protective gear, attached the suppressor onto the barrel, then asked Bishop for the laser sight and spotlight. "I may as well get used to the weight, since they'll throw off the barrel."

"Sound reasoning."

Will attached the two units onto the underside of the barrel, then left to go change into his uniform. "I want to make sure that none of my other gear gets in the way," he explained.

"Makes sense," Logan said. "How does the grip feel with your gloves on?"

"It seems secure." After making sure the safety was on, he placed his finger inside the trigger guard. "I've got enough finger room. Let's check it out."

They went to the Danger Room, where Bishop set up a firing range simulation. Logan joined Will on the staging area floor.

"All right," Logan said, "turn on the sight. Use the visible beam so I can see what you're doing. Now aim for the center of the target. Widen your stance. Stand up straighter. Straighten your arm. Good. Pull off one shot."

Will gently squeezed the trigger, then flinched involuntarily as the recoil jerked his hand back. "I've been neglecting this," he muttered.

"You haven't exactly had time," Logan pointed out.

"That's no excuse and you know it. If I miss my target, or worse, shoot an innocent bystander by mistake, I doubt that saying 'I missed a few training sessions' is going to fly as an acceptable reason."

"True." Logan studied the target after Will had emptied the clip. "Your aim's improved a bit," he said approvingly.

"The sight helps a bit," Will admitted. "Put up another target. I want to try the infrared setting." After Logan had replaced the target and moved aside, Bishop reduced the lighting. Will replaced the clip, chambered a bullet, then shot off five rounds. "That's a little better, I think."

Bishop activated a camera and zoomed in on the target. _"Not quite as precise,"_ he commented, _"but still acceptable."_

"I may have to add a scope," Will said as he removed the clip and slapped in a new one. "Give me some skeets, clay pigeons, whatever you want to call them."

_"Just in front of you?"_

"For now. We'll try surrounding me another time."

Bishop worked at the computer for a few seconds, and soon afterwards an orange disk, about a decimeter in diameter, sailed lazily across the room. Will hit it with a single, casual shot. He raised an eyebrow. "That was actually easier than the target. Give me two at once."

Bishop complied, giving the two disks a half-second delay. Will destroyed them both with ease, then activated the safety. "Now that _is_ interesting," he mused. "It's easier for me to hit the more difficult target. Any guesses from the floor before I give my theory?"

_"The moving target requires a more intuitive approach,"_ Bishop suggested.

"It's more like huntin' wild game," Logan countered.

"I think you're both right. Is that enough for now, Logan?"

"Yeah. We'll put in some time once a week or so. Right now, though, you have to learn the important part."

"Cleaning," Bishop and Will said in unison.

* * *

After Will proved to Logan that he could properly clean and oil his pistol, he went looking for Rogue, finding her engaged in a conversation with Jean, Ororo, and Betsy. He found that he couldn't catch the entire thing, but decided that the amount of giggling that he heard placed it in the general category of 'girl talk'. He quickly came to the conclusion that there are some things that men are simply better off not knowing.

He rapped his knuckles lightly on a nearby table to call attention to himself. "If I might interrupt this little kaffeeklatsch, I'd like to bend Rogue's ear for a second."

"What's up?" Rogue asked.

"I wanted to see if you'd help me out with the tailor from hell. I want to upgrade my uniform to that bulletproof fabric, make a few minor modifications, that sort of thing."

"Okay," she replied, standing up.

"Hang on," Jean added, "I'll come along."

"Uh…." Will faltered.

"Wait a minute," Betsy said to Jean, "you're not going to be the only former model who gets input."

"I…." Will started to say.

"I suppose I should come along," Ororo sighed, "if only to keep you two from arguing telepathically."

_At what point did I lose control of this process?_ Will thought to himself as he followed the four chatting women, looking strikingly like a dog on a leash who is being dragged in an unwanted direction.

* * *

"You're right, Rogue," Betsy said clinically. "It _is_ a nice butt."

"Told you."

"The abs could use some work, though."

"Could we dispense with the anatomical comments, please?" Will asked in a pained voice.

"We're just teasing, Will," Jean said with a grin.

"No, I wasn't," Betsy protested.

Ororo fought to keep from laughing at Will's expression. She decided that he wasn't as embarrassed about standing in front of four women wearing only briefs as much as the fact that Jean and Betsy were viewing his body with the professional detachment of former models, while Rogue was practically salivating. "What sort of modifications were you considering?" she asked him.

Will gave her a grateful look. "Can you give the protective fabric the consistency and appearance of regular cloth?"

"Yes."

"How much impact could it take then?"

"A fifty caliber bullet wouldn't get through. There would still be heavy bruising, of course."

"Impact damage doesn't bother me. I'm just trying to prevent penetration through the skin. I don't want to spend most of my battles trying to dig out bullets."

"I can understand that. What do you want first?"

"Let's start with the shirt. Make it an Oxford collar, with two breast pockets."

"What color?"

"Make it white for now. I may change my mind later. Lengthen the tails by about four inches. I may need the extra room for flexibility."

"All right. Do you want an undershirt?"

"That depends. Would you be able to get past it if something actually got through?"

She nodded. "If there is penetration, surgical scissors can cut the material from the edge of the damaged area. It's a safety feature developed by the Shiar."

"Okay. Make it a T-shirt, very light grey."

"Trousers?"

"Black. Pleated leg. Five pockets." He thought for a moment. ""Let me see something." He walked over to the monitor. "Can we cut the bottom of the leg so that it _looks_ like a hem goes over the boot, but it's actually _inside_ the boot, so that nothing catches when I walk?"

Jean and Betsy looked at one another, mentally discussing the idea, then nodded. "We could put stirrups on the inside of the legs," Jean suggested.

Will considered it. "Let's give it a shot."

"Give us a minute to work it out," Betsy suggested as she and Jean worked at another terminal.

"Put on buttons for suspenders," he requested. "I really don't want my trousers slipping at a crucial moment."

"But that might provide a convenient distraction," Rogue said with a smirk.

"For the team, or just you?"

"Oh, _I'd_ enjoy it, too," Ororo volunteered. "Elastic suspenders?"

"Yes. Four straps, please."

"Color?"

"Black."

"Shoes and socks?"

"Let's try a mid-ankle high hiking shoe, distressed leather, black, black sole, steel toe. Thick black cotton socks, knee-length."

"Bolo tie again?"

"Yes, but I'll take care of that part. Black vest, cloth front, satin back with a belt. Oh, and a black belt with a polymer buckle."

"But you have the suspenders," Jean protested.

"Better safe than sorry. Black leather gloves. Grey fedora, felt, black band. Coat, heavy cloth, no belt, smoke grey, three buttons, four interior pockets. I'll put Forge's new gizmos on the lapels. That should do it."

"What about your weapons?" Rogue asked.

"I want to wait until Bishop finishes work on the holster before I load myself down with gear again. Just generate the uniform for now so I can check the fit."

"Good timing," Betsy told him. "The pants are ready."

"Running program," Ororo announced. About thirty seconds later, the computer spoke_. "Cycle complete."_

"Ding," Rogue chimed.

"Will gave her an amused look. "It's safe?" he asked.

Ororo nodded, then flipped a switch. "The light is on. Give it a try." Will opened the door to the chamber and stepped inside.

"Can I watch?" Rogue asked.

"Let's keep it a surprise." He closed the door.

"Hey, Ororo, can you turn on the camera?"

"_I heard that!"_

Four giggles were the only reply.

* * *

A few minutes later, the door opened again. "Well?" he asked as he stepped out.

"Very impressive," Jean said.

"You certainly won't have any problem blending in," Betsy told him. "Cover your eyes and face, and you could hide in the shadows."

"It may be my imagination," Ororo said, "but I think it makes you look slimmer."

"That's probably the dark colors," he suggested. "What about you, Rogue?"

"Well, the beard definitely makes you look more distinguished…. and a bit older. I think Betsy's right. You might get a second glance from civilians, but you sure won't attract attention the way _our_ costumes do."

"Ah, but you lovely ladies _always_ attract attention, no matter how you may be dressed."

"Flatterer," Ororo said with a smile.

"How does it fit?" Betsy asked.

Will squatted down and twisted his upper body to the left and right. "I think the pants need to be a little looser in the rear. The cut's a bit confining."

"You're not about to start singing falsetto on us, are you?"

"They're not _that_ confining. You did remind me of something, though."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to need some sort of protection for that general area. Think about it: somebody lands one good kick, and I'm down for a _long_ time." He took off his hat and looked at it clinically. "I should probably figure out some way to armor this, too."

"That should not be a problem," Ororo said. "I can run it through again, and put a layer of impact gel between the felt and the liner."

"What's impact gel?"

"Another fine creation by Forge. It consists of two thin layers of plastic, or something like it, I suppose, filled with resin."

"It looks sort of like a cold pack," Jean added.

"And is normally as supple as one. When one of the plastic layers suffers enough blunt force, however, the gel hardens within a few centoseconds, becoming as resilient as six inches of steel."

"So the fabric hardens, and the bullet bounces right off," Will finished. "I like it. What's the catch?"

"The catch is that once it hardens. It's impossible to move if you're wearing the stuff," Betsy told him.

"So you can't use it in _your_ uniforms, but it'll work for my hat."

"Exactly."

"Can the gel take normal wear and tear without hardening?"

"No problem," Jean told him.

"Let's do that, then." He tossed the hat back into the chamber. "We may as well recycle."

After arguing with the computer for a few minutes, Ororo finally got it to understand what she wanted, and a new, armored hat was ready. Will looked at it approvingly. "Good work. Anybody have the time?"

"It's just after nine-thirty," Betsy said.

"I think I'll call it a night, then."

"Good idea," Ororo replied. "You have the night watch tomorrow."

"I'll try to sneak in a nap during the afternoon, then. Good night, all."

"Hey," Rogue protested, "don't _I_ get anything special?"

Will thought for a moment. "Ororo, could you make me a silk kerchief, about half a meter square?"

"What color?"

"Green."

Ororo tapped at the keyboard for a moment. Ten seconds later, the kerchief was ready. Will removed it from the chamber, then walked over to Rogue and held it up by two corners, at about face level. "Could you hold this for a second?" he asked.

"Okay," she said with a smile.

Once she held the kerchief, Will wrapped his arms loosely around her waist and back, then dipped her down. Once the kerchief settled, covering her face, he pressed his lips to hers.

Betsy pressed a button on her watch. "Beginning count now," she announced.

Three and a half minutes later, Will had to come up for air. He helped Rogue to her feet, without dislodging the kerchief. "Night, love," he said casually as he left.

Rogue stood there, motionless, for several seconds. Betsy, who was becoming worried, stood up and walked over to her, pulling off the kerchief.

She had a look of dreamy bliss on her face, and her eyes were unfocused and lidded. "Are you all right?" Betsy asked her.

Rogue slowly turned to her. "I'm fine, Betts," she said in a low, husky voice, "just fine."

"He was that good?" Ororo asked.

"Uh _huh_."

* * *

Will studied his new uniform in his mirror, nodding in satisfaction. _Not bad_, he thought to himself. _Not bad at all_. He changed into a pair of sweatpants, then spent fifteen minutes or so copying several files from his desktop computer to his new laptop. Once that was done, he sat cross-legged on his bed, opened his notebook, and started transcribing the first chapter of his novel.

A few minutes later, or so it seemed to him, there was a knock at his door. "Come in," he called.

Ororo walked in, dressed in a short white robe. "I was about to go to bed, then I noticed that your light was on. I wanted to let you know that I appreciate what you did for Rogue."

"It's not like _I_ didn't enjoy it," he said with a grin.

"True. May I sit down?" He nodded, and she settled gracefully at the foot of his bed, mirroring his pose. "Rogue has been my good friend for several years now. I can honestly say that I have never seen her happier than since you joined us. I just thought that I should thank you for that."

"I _want_ her to be happy," he said, putting the computer aside for a moment and wrapping his arms around his legs. "I just wish I could help her solve her biggest problem."

Ororo nodded sympathetically. "We have been seeking a solution to her control problem ever since she joined us. Nothing that we have tried thus far has worked."

"Is the core of the problem physical or psychological?"

"Charles seems to believe that it is a combination of both. He thinks that she has a physical problem which is exacerbated by psychological factors, such as low self-esteem and a need to punish herself."

"For what?" he asked, sitting up straighter. "What did she do that was so terrible?"

Ororo thought for a moment. Rogue had apparently never mentioned her history with Carol Danvers to Will, and she could see to way to bring it up which would not cause Rogue to feel hurt and betrayed. "I think it would be best if Rogue told you herself," she finally said. "I might not be the best judge of what happened."

Will looked at her dubiously, but decided not to press the issue. "All right. I might be able to help with the self-esteem issues, though."

"How so?"

"By getting her to view herself as I see her."

"And how is that?"

"As the most beautiful, precious thing in my world," he said softly.

Ororo smiled. "You have the soul of a poet."

"Thanks for the compliment," he said modestly as he saved his work and turned off the computer. "I'd better get to sleep. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course," she said as she stood up. "Since you have night watch, you can sleep late if you want." She then surprised him by bending down and giving him a light peck on the cheek.

Will smiled up at her. "Thank you, Ororo. You know, if my heart wasn't already taken…."

"But it is," she reminded him as she smiled back. Then she sighed theatrically. "Pity."

"Yes. In a crowd, my eyes see only her." He then looked at her appraisingly, admiring her long, trim legs and the low cut of the neck of her robe. "That particular outfit, however, is doing its damnedest to get my attention."

Ororo laughed. Good night, Will," she told him as she left, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Will arose just after eight-thirty in the morning, sitting up in bed and letting out a yawn which could probably be heard in the War Room. He staggered over to his bathroom and took a lukewarm shower which improved his spirits markedly. After shaving and trimming his beard, he looked through his closet. He chose to dress up a little that day, selecting a pair of navy Dockers, a dark red dress shirt, his lapis lazuli bolo tie, and a black vest. He pinned his pocket watch to the vest, slipped his feet into a pair of casual loafers, and went down to the kitchen.

Betsy and Warren were cleaning the last of the breakfast dishes. "You're too late," Warren informed him.

"That's okay," he said cheerfully. "Juice and a banana should be enough for me." He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down, taking the paper from the other end of the table.

"Are you planning on going out?" Betsy asked him.

"Not really. I just felt like a change from the jeans look this morning. Where's Rogue?"

"She's in a team session with Jean, Logan, and Bobby. They should be done by ten."

"Good. Would you happen to know if I'm scheduled for anything before tonight?"

She glanced at the bulletin board next to the refrigerator. "You've got dinner duty. Other than that, you've got the day off. You might want to take a nap if you've got monitor duty, since you'll be up all night."

He nodded. "I was planning on it." He stood up and looked in the cupboards and freezer. "I think I'll make lasagna for tonight," he decided, taking out packages of Italian sausage and ground beef.

Betsy nodded in approval. "Do we have everything for salad?" She had gained a pound or two at her last physical, and was trying to watch her weight.

"Looks like it." He tossed out the banana peel and put his glass in the dishwasher. "I'll start working on dinner around four. If Rogue asks, let her know that I'll be in my room. I have to work on my writing."

"How is that going?"

"It's starting to come together. Once I have everything in my computer, it should start going a lot faster. See you later."

Will went up to his room and opened one of his windows to let in a breeze (he had learned several weeks ago that opening the other one caused the papers on his desk to fly halfway across the room). He made his bed, then proceeded to flop right back onto it and open up his laptop. He stuck a CD in the media tray and plugged in a pair of headphones.

After typing up a few pages of the second chapter, he saw that he could add a twist to the plot, one which could throw the reader off onto a false trail. He cackled evilly to himself as he jotted the idea down into his notebook. "The things I do to my readers' minds," he said quietly.

He was so absorbed in the creative process that he didn't even hear Rogue knock on his door and come in. She stood only a few feet away from him, watching him merrily type away. She tried to decide how to best get his attention, rejecting several methods which would be fun, but might shock anyone who walked in.

She glanced around the room, then noticed that he had left one of his hats hanging on the coat rack. She took it, judged the distance, and tossed it like a Frisbee. It sailed across the room, landing in Will's lap and causing him to yelp in shock.

He yanked the headphones off his ears, then looked around the room wildly for a moment, relaxing when he saw her. "Was I _that_ zoned out?" he asked sheepishly.

"'Fraid so," she told him with a grin. "You look nice today."

"Thanks. I wasn't in a casual mood. How did your Danger Room session go?"

"Not bad. I've had better days, but I didn't make any blunders, either. How's that going?" she asked, nodding towards the computer.

"Pretty well. I might actually get it done with some time to spare. My agent will probably think I've been replaced by a pod person." He gestured for her to sit down.

She decided to lie down, instead, taking the laptop away and settling her head in its place. "Feel like doing anything today?"

"Not really," he admitted. "I've got night watch, so I was going to take a nap later."

"I forgot about that." She stretched. "A nap sounds pretty good to me, too. Mind if we snuggle together?"

He smiled. "As if I'd ever say no. How does right after lunch sound? I'll dig out an extra bed sheet."

An idea suddenly came to her. "Hold off on the sheet. I want to look into something."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say." He stroked her shoulders and arms through her pale yellow blouse, then moved down towards her ribs and abdomen. A light sigh signaled her approval. "You know," he said casually, "I spoke with Nightcrawler after the last data transmission he sent us."

"How's he doing?" she said drowsily.

"He's fine. We talked about you for a while, and he reminded me of something that I'd almost forgotten."

"What's that?"

"How very ticklish you are."

_Oh no._

* * *

Logan walked by Will's room on his way to the stairs, and was not surprised to hear Rogue's voice. What she was saying, however, _did_ surprise him:

"Hahahaha…. stopit, please…. no, not there…. no fair…. dirty fighter, dirty _ack_!…. No, leggo my foot…." _Shriek_! "Okay, okay, I surrender, you win…." She finally lowered her voice, which dissolved into giggles.

Logan continued on his way, grinning. _The guy has an evil streak. I **knew** somethin' about him reminded him o' myself_.

* * *

Henry and Ororo made hot, open-face turkey sandwiches for lunch. "This is fancier than usual," Bobby noted.

"Will has been raising the standard of what constitutes an acceptable meal," Ororo told him. "Henry and I are simply trying to meet the challenge."

"You have my vote," Will said as he sat down and poured himself a glass of milk.

"Mail call!" Betsy announced when she walked in. "Big one for you, Will," she told him, handing him a package.

He glanced at the address. "It's from Jeff. Probably the documentation for your funds." He opened the package and glanced at the contents. "I was right."

"What is the current value?" Ororo asked.

"I'll let you know once Wall Street closes for the day." He put the papers aside and started eating.

"Oh," Bishop said, "I almost forgot." He reached inside his vest and tossed an object to Will. "Your new holster. Make sure it fits."

Will slipped his arms through the straps and adjusted the holster until it fit comfortably underneath his right shoulder. "Not bad," he decided. "What's this pouch underneath?"

"They'll hold your sights and suppressor. I also added a telescopic night sight."

"Good. Is there anything suspicious I should be on the lookout for during watch tonight?"

"Not really," Ororo told him. "You know the system well enough by now to let it run on automatic. Just keep an eye on the Morlock tunnels. They're the weakest link in our defense system."

He thought about that for a moment. "I wonder if Stephen and I could develop a _magical_ defense system that would complement our other security."

"That's not a bad idea," Xavier said, leaning back from his plate. "It would certainly help balance the scales against the technology that the Genoshans and some of our other opponents tend to use."

"I'll talk to Stephen about it at our next meeting."

As everyone got up after the meal, Rogue tapped Will lightly on the shoulder. "I'll be up in a few minutes," she told him.

"Take your time," he replied with a smile. "I want to put on something more comfortable, anyway." He headed back up to his room and changed into sweat pants and a mock turtleneck, switching to cotton socks and slipping on the white gloves which Rogue had given him. He then set his alarm clock for four P.M., a time which would give him enough leeway to have dinner ready by six.

His door opened a few minutes later, and Rogue walked in, concealing an object behind her. She had also changed into a turtleneck, and had tied her hair back in a French knot. "I just came up with this idea," she warned him, "and I probably still need to work out a few details, so please don't laugh."

"What's the idea?"

She moved her hands in front of her, revealing a small, palm-sized bundle, almost transparent. "It's a Shiar microfiber. It's only a few microns thick, and can't take much punishment, so it's useless for a uniform. But…." She unfolded the cloth, which had been shaped like a tube, then pulled it over her head and face. "It should last through a three-hour nap."

Will had to smile. "I'm associating with a bank robber."

She humphed at that. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

They settled into spoon position on the bed, and Will wrapped one arm around her waist. She leaned back with a smile. "It's nice like this," she said. "We can both move around."

"Speaking of that," he suggested, "why don't you turn over?"

"Okay." She rolled over so that she faced him. "How's that?"

He looked at her with soft eyes. "Absolutely beautiful," he said as he lightly ran one finger along her cheek, down to where the neck of the mask met her shirt. "They should have given an award to whoever thought of women wearing turtlenecks."

"I'm glad you like it," she giggled. "Then her expression became more hesitant. "Will?"

"Yes?"

"Would you kiss me again?" she whispered.

He smiled and drew her closer. "Never be afraid to ask me that." He then closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers.

The Shiar microfiber, in addition to being breathable, was also heat-permeable, so they could feel the warmth of each other's skin, if not the skin itself. The texture of the cloth was like fine satin, which gave them both the welcome illusion that they were feeling the actual sensation of skin-to-skin contact.

Will inhaled deeply once they broke contact. "How was that?" he asked her in a low voice.

She smiled. "Warm. Soft." She nestled her head in the crook of his arm. "I could get used to it."

"So could I." He lightly nuzzled her cheek with his chin. "You know, I'd be perfectly happy if we stayed like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't want you thinking that your powers make any difference to me. I love you for who you are. Past and present, bad and good. I'm not proud of everything that I've done, but you helped me see that I don't have to dwell on it. I don't want you dwelling on your past, either. We'll both just take each day as it comes, and when your burdens get to be too heavy, I'll be right here to help you carry them."

Rogue felt her eyes start to water. "That's…. that's the most beautiful thing that anyone's ever said to me," she whispered. "I never thought I'd ever hear words like that."

"And what makes you think that you don't _deserve_ beautiful things in your life? That what you did when you were thirteen…. accidentally, no less…. will condemn you for the rest of your life? I don't, I can't, believe that. I think that you've done enough good since that mistake for you to be able to look at yourself in the mirror…. take a good, long look at yourself and your life…. and be able to tell the person in the mirror 'You paid your dues. You can leave it all behind…. you can put the burden down and start over.'"

"That would be so wonderful," she said wistfully as she started to drift off into sleep. "Just let it all go…."

"And dare to dream," he whispered in her ear.

She dared.

* * *

_**Author's Note**: I would like to express my thanks to Mr. John Pfeifer of G.A.T. Guns in West Dundee, Illinois, who provided the technical details for the firearms described in this chapter._


	46. Chapter 46

Will flew out of bed when his alarm went off.

Literally. Rogue sat up quickly, startled by the unfamiliar sound, and since Will was lying on top of her arm, he did a rather ungraceful somersault, landing on the floor at the foot of his bed.

Rogue winced as Will staggered up, somewhat dazed and punch-drunk. "Sorry," she apologized.

He wove his way over to the alarm clock and shut off the beeper, which was emitting a noise reminiscent of a canary having an asthma attack. "I have to admit," he told her as he flopped down into his easy chair, "I've certainly been getting up more easily since we got serious." Seeing that she was still worried, he smiled reassuringly. "It's _forgiven_, love," he said gently. "Now come here."

She stood up and walked over to him, then sat in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her in a soft embrace and held her comfortingly. "You okay?"

She smiled, then, since she was still wearing the mask, leaned her head against his. "Yeah," she said after a moment. "Yeah, I'm okay. I really am." The last statement was said more to herself than to Will. "It's weird. I feel…. lighter. Does that make any sense?"

"Maybe," he replied. "Maybe just deciding to share your problems instead of keeping them bottled up inside made them seem a little easier to deal with. Maybe your subconscious realized that you're not alone any more." He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "It took long enough for it to get the message. I was considering the idea of putting subliminal messages in the paper."

She giggled, causing her body to shake against Will's in some _very_ pleasant ways. "Well, you're finally starting to make an impact." She pressed her nose to his. "Now, you'd better start making an impact on dinner, before Logan gets testy and decides to make an impact on _you_."

"You raise a valid point," he deadpanned. "Now, I have to get up if I'm going to make dinner on time. Could you possibly be convinced to move so that I can do so?"

She thought for a moment. "You'll have to be more persuasive than that."

"I could always tickle you again."

"I'm moving! I'm moving!"

* * *

An hour or so of boiling water and cooking meat allowed Will to produce five pans of lasagna and eight dirty dishes. After he placed the pans in the oven to heat up, he looked at the pile of in the sink, sighed, then started cleaning. Ororo and Bishop entered the kitchen a few minutes later and helped set the table. 

Dinner was calm and uneventful, and soon afterwards Will took the elevator down to the monitor room, bringing his computer, a thermos of cocoa, and a box of thin mint cookies (a confection which, in Will's possession, should have been considered a controlled substance). He got comfortable in the chair, poured himself a cup, opened the computer, and got to work.

After he had finished transcribing his written notes, he scrounged up a legal pad from a nearby drawer and got to work on a new chapter. He glanced up at the monitors every few seconds, making sure that he paid special attention to the displays for the Morlock tunnels.

He lost track of time, as he usually did when he was writing, and Rogue came down to say goodnight, he was completely immersed in his work, only noticing her when her reflection appeared in the monitor. He smiled without looking up. "Okay, I surrender. You can take me to your secret hideout and have your wicked way with me."

"Now _there's_ a tempting offer," she drawled as she turned his chair around. "Are you sure you'll even _hear_ the alarm if it goes off?"

He nodded. "I set the room volume to maximum. It won't bother anybody upstairs, but it would probably shake me out of a coma. You going to bed?"

"Yep. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't feeling abandoned. You comfy?"

"Very. I've got cookies, cocoa…." He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close. "And now I have someone who's very cuddly."

"That's nice," she said as she nimbly wriggled out of his grasp, "but I've got breakfast duty, so we'll have to cuddle later."

"Oh, sure," he pouted, "tease me and leave me begging for more."

She became thoughtful for a moment. "Make you beg. I hadn't even thought of that."

"Oh, great," he groaned, "now she's getting inspired."

Rogue laughed as she traced a gloved finger up his chest and neck, finally giving him a light tap on the tip of his nose. "Good night, Will."

"Sweet dreams, love."

After Rogue left, Will focused his attention on his writing, and managed to fill up six pages with handwritten notes in about an hour, allowing him to introduce the last of his main characters. "Now we can get down to business," he said to himself.

Soon afterwards, however, he found that he was stuck. He stared at the pad for several minutes as his frustration mounted, then tossed it onto the work console and started pacing around the room anxiously.

He stopped to think for a moment, standing only a half-meter away from the console. He nearly jumped out of his skin four seconds later when the alarm klaxon went off.

After taking a moment to restart his heart, Will activated the console display. He saw that a message was arriving over the channel dedicated to the Integrated Super Hero Exchange and Conferencing System, a communications link with both the Fantastic Four and the Avengers that Bobby had, long ago, shortened to an acronym he pronounced 'eye sheik'.

Will sat down in the chair and opened the channel. One second later, he was looking at the face of someone he recognized immediately.

"This is X-Men headquarters, Archetype speaking. Hello, Iron Man. What's the situation?"

Light moved across a golden faceplate as the veteran Avenger studied Will intently_. "You're the new X-Man,"_ he said in a voice which was not questioning, but simply stating a known fact. _"The teleporter."_

"That's right," Will confirmed. "Given the hour, I assume that this isn't a social call, so let's get to business."

Iron Man nodded. _"Right. A group of HYDRA agents was flushed out by the NYPD's Code: Blue team about ten minutes ago. The bust was going okay until the HYDRA boys managed to remember the combination to their weapons locker. The boys in blue called us for help, but most of our core membership is at a conference in Washington right now, and the F.F. are in Wakanda. Can you guys give us a hand?"_

Will nodded. "Who do you have on hand?"

_"There's just me, Wasp, and Tigra."_

"That should be enough. Can your armor set up a force field?"

_"No problem."_

"Okay. We'll rendezvous there. What's the location?"

_"Sending now."_ A small window appeared in the window of the view screen, displaying a map.

"It should take five minutes to gear up and get there."

_"It'll take seven for us. Meet you there. Out."_ The screen went dark.

* * *

Iron Man and Wasp arrived at the shootout location eight minutes later. Iron Man supported Tigra with one arm, releasing her as he landed, then walked over to the nearest police officer. "Have the X-Men arrived yet?" he asked. 

"The answer's yes, and it's singular."

The three Avengers turned around to find Archetype, in uniform, walking towards them from the shadows of a nearby alley. "Where are the others?" Wasp asked.

"I didn't see any reason to disturb them, Ms. Van Dyne. The four of us should be able to handle this." He looked at the nearest officer. "How many are in there?"

"Between ten and fifteen."

"How far did you evacuate?"

"One block in all directions."

"Do they have independent power? I noticed that the rest of the block is dark."

The officer nodded. "We wanted to spook them, but there's not much point now. We'll have everything back up in ten minutes."

"No," he told her, "keep the power off. And tell your people to shut down all of their electrical equipment. Disconnect the batteries on your cruisers and take them out, remove the power cells on your communication equipment, that sort of thing. Otherwise, It's all going to be ruined."

"Right." The officer turned to relay the message.

"What about me?" Iron Man asked.

Archetype frowned. "Once we get the all-clear, fly about three blocks away, wait two minutes, then hurry back."

"Right."

"Take these with you." Archetype reached into his coat and handed him his two gun sights. "Just a precaution."

Three minutes later, the officer indicated that the police had replied with his requests.

"I'll be back in two minutes," Iron Man said just before taking off. Jeers of victory could be heard from the building.

"Now what?" Tigra asked.

"Now it's my turn," Archetype replied. "Just make sure that none of them leave the building."

"No problem."

Archetype nodded, took a deep breath, then closed his eyes, which glowed when he reopened them. He walked straight towards the front of the building, only pausing when he was occasionally his by a bullet, which bounced off his new uniform. Glaring at the darkened windows, he let his irritation over the situation build in his mind until it became a dull throbbing just behind his eyes. Once the world started to grey out, he released the tension, hurling it towards the building.

There was no visible manifestation of the distortion this time, since the intensity was a fraction of what had occurred in Salt Lake City. The effect on HYDRA's weapons, however, was the usual one. Yelps of pain and shock could be heard as sparks illuminated various windows of the building.

Once he had recovered his bearings, he kicked into overdrive and ran towards the building, teleporting the door off just before he entered. He made his way through the rooms at what was temporarily an unhurried pace, taking careful note of the locations of the HYDRA agents. Once he had them all firmly fixed in his mind, he found an unobtrusive corner with a window view of the street.

Iron Man was within a block of the building, appearing, in Archetype's view, to hang motionlessly in the air. Archetype nodded to himself in satisfaction, then reentered normal time.

Iron Man was within a quarter-block of the building when the HYDRA agents started appearing. Twelve men were deposited on the asphalt of the street within the space of four seconds. He reacted quickly, surrounding then with a force field before they could get their bearings.

Within a few minutes, the police had placed all of the criminals into a prisoner transport. "Thanks for your help," Archetype was told by the officer he had spoken with earlier.

"Don't mention it. We're all on the same team."

"Good work," Iron Man added. "You made this job a lot easier. We'll remember this the next time the X-Men need a hand."

"It's all part of the job," Archetype shrugged. "I should get back."

"Tell Angel I said hi," the officer requested.

"I'll do that, Officer…?"

"Jones. Charlotte Jones."

Archetype nodded and vanished, not noticing the speculative look that the Wasp had been giving him.

* * *

Logan, ever the early riser, walked into the monitor room just after six in the morning. He found Will seated in a chair, busily writing on a pad. "Morning," he said absently, not looking up. 

"Mornin' Anythin' interestin' last night?"

"Same old, same old," Will said with a shrug. "We might get a transmission from the Avengers later today. Some kind of update."

"Nothin' unusual. They do their best to keep us in the loop."

"Good." He sat up and stretched, then picked up the papers and his computer. "Any idea what I'm scheduled for today?"

"Danger Room session at eight-thirty. Bobby an' Hank have breakfast, an' you and 'Roro do lunch. You get the rest of the day off."

"I can live with that. What about Rogue?"

"She's in the session, she has maintenance duty until two, and that's it. We're doin' our best to give the two o' you as much time together as we can."

Will smiled. "Thanks, Logan. I appreciate that. It isn't bothering anybody, is it? No complaints from Scott and Jean or Warren and Betsy?"

"Nope. We've been doin' the same thing for them ever since they got serious." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Now get outta here, ya bum."

Will gave a two-fingered salute. "Yes, sir. See you at lunch."

* * *

"What's today's objective, Betsy?" Bobby asked from his place on the Danger Room floor. He, Will, Rogue, Ororo, and Jean were in uniform and doing some warm-up exercises. 

_"Target practice,"_ Betsy told him. _"You have to work together and neutralize as many hostiles as possible. There will be civilians in this scenario, so be careful what you hit."_

"Are you going to be using holograms to distort distance?" Will asked.

_"Yes and no."_ A moment later, the walls of the Danger Room vanished, replaced by a tiled, columned atrium which had the look of government construction to it. _"The area inside the columns is the actual Danger Room, Will. Anything beyond that is a wall."_

"Thanks, Betsy. That helps." He turned to Ororo. "What's the plan, boss?"

"Jean and Bobby will protect the civilians. The rest of us will deal with the hostiles."

"And those hostiles arrrre…?" Bobby asked.

_"You'll see,"_ Betsy replied in an ominous voice.

"That sounds encouraging," Jean muttered dryly.

The atrium was suddenly filled with several dozen people, dressed in conservative business attire, who mingled loosely with one another. _"There are terrorists hiding in the crowd. They're all armed, and plan to take down as many people as possible before security gets them. You have to figure out who the terrorists are, then take them down without hurting any of the civilians. I will give you one advantage."_

"What's that?" Rogue inquired.

_"You'll appear in civilian clothing. Just think of it as wearing image inducers."_

"Keep me as is, Betsy," Will requested. "I'll just try to blend in."

_"No problem. Everybody hold still for a second."_ After a few moments of consideration, Betsy 'clothed' Ororo, Jean, and Rogue in pantsuits whose colors mirrored their uniforms. Bobby was given a rather dapper brown tweed jacket and slacks.

Will looked closely at Rogue's attire. "Betsy, can you send the pattern for that outfit to the tailor from hell?"

_"Of course. But why?"_

"Because you made an outstanding choice. It looks fantastic."

"Thank you," both Betsy and Rogue replied modestly.

"Let's get to work," Jean suggested. "Mingle with the crowd and look for anything suspicious. Bulges in jackets, hearing aids on younger people, that sort of thing." Everyone nodded, and they split up.

Will tapped at his communicator. "Will to Ororo. I recommend that we try to be as unobtrusive as possible. We should be able to take down a few of them without being too noticeable."

_"Any other ideas?"_ Ororo asked.

"I might have some strategies, although they're obvious ones. I'll use my hypodermic pen to knock one of them out. Bobby can lower a perp's body temperature quickly enough to induce a minor case of hypothermic shock. Jean can decrease blood flow to the brain of somebody else. Rogue can use either her powers or a nerve pinch. Can you administer a mild electrical shock to a person without being obvious about it?"

_"It will be difficult. A nerve pinch would probably be a better choice."_

"Whatever works for you, Boss. Should we try to coordinate our attack so we get them all at once?"

_"We should find out how many there are, first. Keep mingling for now."_

"Right."

They wandered among the crowd, looking for anything out of the ordinary. "Ororo," Bobby said after a few minutes, "we've got two people hanging near the guards by the door."

"And one woman here with a hairdo that's totally covering one ear," Jean added.

"I see two with shoulder holsters under their coats," supplied Will.

"I've got a businessman who seems to be really possessive of his briefcase," Rogue finished.

"Bobby," Ororo ordered, "you take the two by the door. Jean, you take the briefcase. Wrap it in a T.K. bubble as soon as it's out of his hands. Rogue, you take the woman, since she may be the leader. We won't make any moves until I give the signal. Understood?"

"Understood," they all replied.

"Approach your targets."

They ambled their way through the crowd, trying to look as casual as possible. When they came within a few feet of their targets, they stopped and acted like they were checking their watches.

"Strike on three," Ororo murmured. "One…. two…."

Once Ororo said "three," Will casually stepped up to his target, then stumbled, falling against the man and using his pen to inject a very strong sedative into him. The terrorist immediately started to collapse. Bobby lowered the body temperatures of the two near the doors, and kept them from collapsing by freezing their jackets to the wall. They went into shock, hanging limply. Ororo dropped one of their targets with a nerve pinch, while Jean closed the arteries in her opponent's neck, causing him to faint, but supported both him and the briefcase telekinetically. Rogue, for her part, simply removed one glove and touched the face of the woman with the earpiece. The hologram obediently followed its programming and collapsed. Rogue did not experience her usual reaction, since she had not actually touched a living being.

They had neutralized all of the terrorists within the space of three seconds_. "Sequence complete,"_ Betsy announced_. "**Outstanding** work, people."_

"That _did_ go smoothly, didn't it?" Jean asked with a smile.

_"Okay, hit the showers, then come to debriefing."_

* * *

"We haven't done that well in a while," Rogue said as she shampooed her hair. She and Ororo stood in the showers of the women's locker room, luxuriating in the sensation of showering under the miniature rain cloud that Ororo had created. 

"Will's low-key strategy was the key," Ororo decided. "He's taking a more subtle approach to things. I have to admit, it's a refreshing change of pace."

"We didn't even cause any damage," Rogue pointed out. "Doesn't that violate our contract somehow?"

Ororo laughed. "I think that Will's sense of humor is starting to rub off on you." She dissipated the cloud and manifested a warm breeze which dried them off.

As they dressed in casual clothes, Rogue heard a quiet grunt of pain from Ororo. "You okay?" she asked.

Ororo grimaced and rolled her shoulder. "I think I must have pulled something during the night. It feels a bit stiff."

"Ask Will to give you a rubdown," Rogue suggested. "He did wonders for my shoulder and neck while I was recuperating."

"You won't mind?"

Rogue sniffed. "Why does everybody assume that I'm the jealously possessive type? He'll be giving you a massage, not seducing you."

Ororo smiled naughtily. "Maybe you should be more worried about _me_ seducing _him_. He looks quite delectable in just a pair of briefs."

"He looks even better without them," she replied with a grin. "Seriously, Ororo, I doubt think anything would happen. He'll probably make you wear a towel, or switch his vision to infrared, or something like that."

"All right," Ororo decided, "I'll ask him while we cook lunch."

* * *

After the debriefing, during which alternative strategies were debated, Rogue began her shift in the monitor room, Jan and Bobby reported to the hanger to do some routine maintenance on Blackbird Blue, and Will and Ororo went up to the kitchen to start work on lunch. Logan had expressed a desire for Mexican cuisine, so they decided to make chicken and beef fajitas. 

As Ororo sliced some peppers and onions into thin strips, she turned to Will. "Rogue suggested that I ask you for some help."

"For what?"

"I seem to have pulled a muscle in my shoulder. She thought that you might be willing to provide me with some massage therapy."

He thought about it for a moment. "All right. How about right after lunch?"

"That would be perfect. Would my room be acceptable? It has more open floor space than yours."

"Of course." He added the vegetables and some seasonings to the meat, then started preparing a tray to bring down to Rogue.

* * *

Will picked up a few things from his room, then knocked on Ororo's door. "Come in," she called. 

Being a man with a great deal of respect for personal privacy, Will had never actually been in Ororo's room before. As he saw the multitude of hanging and potted plants, his mind provided jungle sound effects.

"I will be out in a moment," Ororo called from the bathroom. Will nodded to himself and laid out his supplies on the floor: a large, sky blue comforter, a hot water bottle, a small, squeezable bottle of almond oil, and a small bowl. He poured a generous amount of oil into the bowl, then removed his shoes, sat on the floor, and waited.

After about a minute, Ororo walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a plain white dashiki. "Is everything ready?" she asked as she finished pinning her hair up.

"I just have to fill this," he replied, holding up the hot water bottle.

"I will do it." He tossed it lightly to her, and she came back with it a few moments later. "Is there anything else?"

"Are there any sounds or smells that help you relax? They tend to help your muscles loosen up a bit."

She nodded and went to her stereo, choosing a cassette from the rack. A moment later, the soft sounds of a violin emanated from the speakers. "Who's that?" Will asked.

"Ithzak Perlman." She then reached into a drawer and took out a stick of incense and a holder. "The sandalwood we purchased that day in New York," she informed him. "We never did have that full moon ceremony."

"We had a few minor interruptions, as I recall."

"True." She lit the end of the stick with a small tracer of lightning, then blew it out. A moment later, a thin wisp of smoke started to waft into the air, distributing its scent throughout the room. She lit a large candle with the same method, then took a small remote control out of a pocket of the dashiki. She pressed one of its two buttons, and an opaque blind covered the skylight, reducing the illumination in the room to a comfortable, intimate dimness.

"All set?" Will asked her as he rolled up his sleeves and kicked off his shoes.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, would you prefer to do this sitting up or lying down?"

"Lying down, I think." She loosened the belt of the dashiki and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Will politely looked away as she stretched out onto the comforter, lying on her stomach. She untied the towel from around her waist and spread it out.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Very."

"Good." He placed the hot water bottle on her shoulder. "We'll let this sit there for a few minutes to relax the sprain."

Ororo closed her eyes and listened to the music as the heat started to reduce the tension in her muscles. Once Will felt that she was sufficiently relaxed, he dipped one hand into the bowl of oil. Taking hold of the hot water bottle with the other hand, he removed it and placed his free hand in its place with one smooth motion. Ororo barely noticed the switch.

Will began manipulating the tissue of Ororo's shoulder, starting with a light touch, then gradually increasing the pressure until he felt the bands of muscle start to yield to him. Working very slowly, he took care of the whole of her shoulder, from her collarbone to her bicep.

When he finished, he stopped the motion of his hands, but did not remove them. "Does that feel any better?" he asked quietly.

"It feels like my muscles have been transformed into Jell-O," she sighed. "Now I understand why Rogue spoke so highly of you."

"Thank you," he said modestly.

"Could you possibly take care of the rest of my back?"

"I don't see why not."

Over the next half-hour, Ororo was given a thorough backrub which relaxed her so much that she was nearly asleep by the time she was done. "How do you feel now?" Will asked.

Her reply was a contented purr. "Just throw a blanket over me and wake me for dinner."

He grinned. "Yes, Ma'am, Boss Ma'am, three bags full."

* * *

Once he was certain that Ororo was comfortable, Will quietly left and went back downstairs to his room. He checked his e-mail, deleting the spam and studying the remaining messages. One in particular caught his attention, and he opened it up. 

_To: Arthur_

_From: Beowulf_

_Sorry I'm late writing to you, but I've been very busy. I had three club __meetings this week, the new construction on my flat has just begun,__and I just found out that I'm pregnant! I'd appreciate it if you could__send me as many ideas for girls' names as you can._

_Bandia duit,_

_Beowulf_

Will studied the message intently for a moment, then clicked on the 'Reply' button.

_Congratulations! I hope that your girls bring you plenty of happiness. Will do __some research and send to you soon. Keep me informed._

_Bandia duit,_

_Arthur_

Just as he was sending the message, there was a knock on his open door, and Rogue poked her head in. "How did 'Roro like her backrub?"

"She's sound asleep. I think I can take that as a positive response."

She grinned and walked in. "We've both got the rest of the day off. Any ideas on what we can do?"

He thought for a moment. "How about a nice, quiet dinner for two in the day room?"

"That sounds nice. What about right now, though?"

"Well, I need to catch up on some sleep. It's been a while since I stayed up all night."

"A very busy night, from what the Avengers told us."

Will flushed with embarrassment. "Scott must have been _thrilled_."

"He doesn't know yet. Logan got a good laugh out of it, though."

"I do what I can to keep everyone entertained." He shut off the computer and leaned back against the headboard of his bed. "What would you like for dinner?"

"I don't want you cooking on your night off. Why don't we just order out? Italian sound good?"

"Make mine a calzone with a canoli for dessert. Here." He dug into a pocket and handed her thirty dollars. "That ought to cover it."

"What time do you want to eat?"

"Let's make it around seven. That way we can watch a movie or something later."

"Okay. Want to go out for the movie or stay here?"

"I sort of feel like being a lump tonight. I've seen how many tapes are in the cabinet downstairs. I'm sure we can agree on something from there." He finished with a yawn.

"I'd better let you get to sleep," she said with an indulgent smile. She glanced towards the door, and smiled again as Smoke walked in and hopped onto the bed. "Hi, Smoke," she crooned, bending down to pet the cat, which rubbed her head against Rogue's hand and purred ecstatically. "Where have you been all day?"

"She likes to sun herself on one of the reading alcoves in the day room," Will informed her. He stood up, than ran his had up Rogue back through her shirt, sending a delicious shiver up her spine. "See you in a few hours, love," he told her, ending with a light kiss on her shoulder. "Oh, can you wake Ororo up just before dinner?"

"No problem. Now, get changed for bed. I'm going to tuck you in."

He grinned. "Yes, dear."

While Will changed into sweat pants and a T-shirt, Rogue gently moved the dozing Smoke to the foot of the bed, then drew back the covers. After Will lay down on the bed, she covered him up to the neck, then pulled the sheet over the lower half of his face. Lowering her face to his, she gave him a long, lingering kiss. "See you tonight, handsome. Sweet dreams."

"I'll be dreaming of you, _halainn_. How could it _not_ be a sweet dream?"

* * *

After relaxing in front of the TV with Bobby and Henry for a while, Rogue went up to Ororo's room to wake her for dinner. She found that the older woman was stretched out on her back, snoring softly. It was fortunate, Rogue decided, that Will had sent her to awaken Ororo, rather than one of the men, since her fearless leader had managed to kick off most of the blanket, and was currently in a position which could probably be used as the centerfold of a men's magazine. 

Smiling naughtily at that thought, she gently shook Ororo by the shoulder. "'Roro? Boss? Will asked me to get you up."

Ororo slowly opened her eyes, then gave Rogue a drowsy smile. "Thank you, Rogue," she said with a yawn. Curling up into a ball, she rolled forward onto her feet and then gracefully stood up, raising her arms above her head and arching her back as she stretched. "By the Goddess," she marveled, "I haven't felt this relaxed in months."

"I told you that Will was good," Rogue replied with a grin. "And that was just your shoulder."

"Actually, I asked him to take care of my back, too. Maybe I should ask for a full-body treatment next time."

"_Then_ you'll be so relaxed that you'll barely be able to tell him thank you."

Ororo gave Rogue a wicked grin. "I'm sure that I could find some other way to demonstrate my gratitude." Then her face became apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry, Rogue," she said as she picked up her dashiki and put it on, "I shouldn't have said that."

Rogue was silent for a moment, then gently placed her hand on Ororo's shoulder. "Look, Ororo, I don't think that, unless there's a major change in my relationship with Will, he'd even consider the idea. Having said that, though…. if something _did_ happen, and you were both honest and up front about it, I don't think I'd be that upset."

"Not that it's any of my business," Ororo asked, "but why not?"

"I'm just being realistic, Ororo. Will's been incredibly patient and understanding, but he still has physical needs just like anybody else. I just sort of feel bad that he's been giving me so much, but I haven't been able to give him much in return."

"No Rogue, you mustn't think like that." She motioned Rogue over to her bed, and they both sat down. "Will _adores_ you. I can see it every time he looks at you, or talks about you. Did you know that his expression softens every time he hears your voice?"

"It does?"

Ororo nodded, smiling. "Remember when you were injured during our encounter with Apocalypse? I saw Will's expression when he saw what had been done to you. He was devastated. I saw his behavior in Salt Lake City when you were shot. Believe me when I tell you that his world absolutely crumbled when he thought that you were in danger. Why else would he have been so vulnerable to Scott's tirade?"

"That's true," she mused. "Will can usually just blow off any criticism. But I'm more concerned about how he's been…. I don't know, holding himself back. He's been absolutely willing to let me call the shots, but hasn't been taking care of his own needs. He has a tendency to be…. I'd call it…."

"Ascetic?" Ororo suggested.

"That's the word. I mean, think about it: he's got all that money, but he doesn't really use it, as far as I can tell."

"He bought you your statue, and spent a few thousand when we went to that art exhibit…"

"But he was spending that money on others, not on himself. He could spoil himself rotten, but the only time he takes a break is when he's ordered to, or when one of us is injured. Even when he was still hurting from his knife wound, he was more concerned about me, even though his injury was much worse than mine."

"Good point. I really don't see what we can do about it, though. If we simply order him to take some time off for himself, that would be defeating the purpose."

"Well, I do have one idea. He's been talking about wanting to concentrate on his business interests for a while now, but I think he's getting bogged down in the details. I think we can help him with that."

"How?"

A moment later, anyone walking by Ororo's room would have been surprised to hear her laughing hysterically.

* * *

After ordering their meal, Rogue went to Will's room and woke him up, playfully skipping out of his reach when he tried to convince her that an extra hour or so of sleep would be good for them both. "Dinner should be here in about half an hour," she told him "Want to get ready?" 

"I think I need a shower first. Meet you in the day room in twenty minutes?"

"Okay. That gives me some time to freshen up, too. Can you grab some dishes from the kitchen?"

"No problem."

Will practically ran through the shower, then put on an old, comfortable pair of blue jeans, a soft, powder blue cotton shirt, and a black suede vest. Before leaving his room, he slapped a dash of cologne onto his cheeks and put on his gloves.

As he descended the stairs, he remembered something, then mentally kicked himself. As he picked up the dishes that he needed, he caught a glimpse of Ororo walking by in the hall. "Ororo?" he called, sticking his head through the open doorway. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"After that backrub, I owe you several favors," she told him with a smile. "What do you need?"

"I don't have time to get to the florist. Could you bear to divest one of your plants of a bloom or two?"

"I think I can do better than that."

* * *

Rogue stepped into the day room, finding that Will had already picked up the food, and was placing some roses into a bud vase. "All set?" she asked. 

"Just finished," he told her. He took a moment to admire her outfit, which combined a nearly transparent, grey body stocking with a midnight blue, sleeveless one-piece dress.

She spun around once. "You like?"

"I like very much." He held out a chair for her, and they both sat down. "You look fabulous."

"Thanks." She took a sip of her water. "I picked out a movie for tonight."

"What's that?"

"_When Harry Met Sally_."

"Just remember to turn down the volume during the restaurant scene."

"Darn. There goes that plan." She looked at the roses. "Why are these all different colors?"

He smiled. "There's a bit of symbolism involved." He sat up a little and took the four roses out one by one, handing them to her. "White is for purity of intent, which I had when we first met. Yellow is for the respect which I developed for you as a warrior and teammate. Pink is for the friendship which began on our first date."

"And red?" she asked in a teasing voice.

"Red is for the passion which you've ignited in me."

"That's nice," she murmured as she took his hand and kissed it lightly.

"It's the truth, beautiful. You've bought light into a world where I was only noticing the darkness. I've reached a point where I can't imagine my life without you."

Rogue beamed as her eyes started to water. "Let's finish eating. I want to get to the _really_ enjoyable part of tonight."

"What's that?"

"Cuddling."

* * *

Shortly afterwards, they entered Rogue's room, where the VCR was already set up. Rogue made herself comfortable in Will's lap as they sat in their usual positions, then started the movie. 

They did not talk often, choosing instead to communicate with caresses and low sighs. They both howled with laughter at the restaurant scene, and Rogue found herself giggling uncontrollably when Billy Crystal found himself in bed with Meg Ryan. "What's so funny?" Will asked her.

"You had that exact same look on your face when you saw me in our hotel room."

"So life _does_ imitate art."

Once the movie ended, Rogue turned off the TV and turned over so that she could look into Will's eyes. "I've got a surprise for you," she whispered.

"And what would that be?" he asked, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Don't move," She got up, walking over to the far end of her room and turning on a halogen floor lamp which was there. After lowering the lamp to its dimmest setting, she moved back to the bed.

"Feel like napping again?" Will asked her.

"I had something different in mind. Close your eyes."

He obeyed. A moment later, he heard a click from the lock on her door, followed soon afterwards by the soft rustle of cloth. A few seconds later, he felt her weight on top of him as she settled back onto the bed, straddling his waist.

"You can look now," he was told.

His eyes opened, and almost fell out of their sockets a moment later.

"Surprise."

She was still wearing the body stocking, having removed the dress and lain it across her chair, and had put on another of the transparent microfiber masks, so she was covered from head to toe.

However, she wasn't wearing anything _under_ the body stocking, so her physical assets were not only quite visible, but vying somewhat aggressively for attention. She had also cut a hole in the back of the mask to let her hair spill through.

Rogue bent down and gave Will a light kiss on the nose. "Tonight is just for you. You've spent too much time worrying about what I need, and not nearly enough about what you need. I love you, and I want to make you as happy as you've made me."

"I…."

"Hush. Let me finish." At his nod, she continued. "You're a very giving man, Will. You give everything you've got to help the people you love. But you have to learn to accept what we have to offer you…. what _I_ have to offer you, tonight."

"Now," she said as she straightened back up, "I'm going to take the lead here, but I want to hear about what you like and don't like, what feels good and what doesn't. Okay?"

He nodded silently. Smiling seductively, she ran her fingers lightly across his face and neck, tracing them over his lips and eyes. Moving down, she slid her hands underneath the collar of his shirt and lightly massaged his shoulders and collarbone. As the tension in his muscles subsided, Will began to slowly relax.

After a few minutes, he had reached a point where he was almost dozing as he luxuriated in the delicate touch of her hands and fingers. He opened one eye, however, when she began to unbutton his vest.

"Trust me, Will," she said reassuringly. "Please?"

He smiled. "Always."

Once he had closed his eyes again, she finished parting the front of the vest, then opened his shirt. Easing herself off his body, she gently rolled his torso from side to side so that she could slip his arms out of the sleeves.

"Your scar's faded a bit," she told him as she lightly traced her fingertips over his chest. "Maybe because your mood's been improving."

"Could be," he agreed. He opened his eyes a few seconds later, startled by an unfamiliar sensation. She had flipped her hair forward so that it spilled over his chest, and was slowly dragging it back and forth, resulting in a very light caress. "That's a new trick," he observed.

"I got the idea from one of my romance novels," she said with a smile. She lowered her head still more, and began blazing a trail of kisses down his body, combining them with light strokes of her fingers along his ribs. He responded to this with a low, gratified sigh.

When she reached his lower abdominals, however, she felt him tense up. "That's…. far enough, love," he said in a husky whisper.

"Don't you trust me?" she asked, hurt.

He sat up and embraced her. "I trust you completely, _halainn_. It's _me_ I don't trust. If we go past a certain point too fast or too soon…. I may not be able to hold myself back."

"Oh," she replied softly. "I understand."

"Besides, I'm starting to get a little tired."

She grinned. "I thought that wasn't supposed to happen until _afterwards_." She laughed as he blushed, then playfully hit him with a pillow. "Hop off, handsome. Let me pull the sheets back."

Once he stood up, she glanced at him. "What _are_ you wearing under those, anyway?"

"Plain white boxers," he replied with a shrug.

"Are those jeans comfortable enough to sleep in?"

"No problem."

"Let's turn in, then," she said as she settled herself in the bed.

"Are _you_ comfortable enough?" he asked. "I don't want you to get tangled up in that thing."

"I'm fine. It feels like a really soft mosquito net. What's so funny?" she asked when he suddenly burst into laughter.

"I just got a mental image of you bumping over and over again into this really big screen door…."

The pillow fight that followed was epic in scale.


	47. Chapter 47

"It breathes!" Henry announced. "It walks! It shows no signs of higher brain functions whatsoever! Is it living?"

"Dead?" Betsy added.

"Keith Richards?" Bobby finished.

"No! It's the X-Men's contribution to altered states of consciousness, Mister _Will Riley_!" Henry finished with a Kermit the Frog "Yay!"

Will's only response was to let his head thud onto the table and emit a groan reminiscent of Lurch from _The Addams Family_. "There must have been a switch somewhere. The X-Men have been replaced by the Not-Quite-Ready-For-Any-Time Players."

"Weren't you up earlier?" Betsy asked. "I thought I caught a psi-flash from you at around four." Betsy had worked the night watch, and was having a quick bite before heading to bed.

"Answering nature's call," Will mumbled. "I didn't want to wake Rogue up, so I just headed back to my room." He pulled his glasses out of a shirt pocket and put them on. "Could I see the paper, please?" Taking it from Bobby, he glanced at the front page blearily.

A moment later, he was on his feet, his eyes wide open. "Oh, boy."

* * *

Five minutes later, Rogue was awakened by the sound of a frantic knock at her door. She jumped out of bed and started towards the door, but stopped when she caught a look at herself in the mirror and realized that she was still wearing the see-through leotard. She grabbed a robe and put it on, then opened the door.

Will stood there, looking unkempt and nervous. "Can you be ready to leave in two hours?"

"For where?"

"Dublin. Remember when I talked to Jeff Riordhan while we were on the road? His daughter's sweet sixteen is tomorrow, and I promised to be there."

"Can't you just teleport over?"

He shook his head. "Jeff will want documentation on the trip. Besides, I'll need the time to go over my paperwork."

She nodded. "Have you talked to 'Roro yet?"

"She and Xavier already gave their okay. Pack light. Anything extra you need, we'll get there."

"I'll be ready in half an hour."

Ninety minutes later, they boarded a British Airways jet and made themselves comfortable in their business class seats. Rogue carried only a moderately sized purse, but Will's briefcase was bulging with both his computer and a stack of papers.

Once the plane had taken off and the sign indicated that they could unbuckle their seat belts, Rogue opened up her purse and took out her Discman. "What did you bring?" Will asked her.

"Nazgul, Kate Bush, Meat Loaf, and the _Grease_ soundtrack. Are you going to be working the whole trip?"

"Probably," he said with a grimace. "I have a lot to go over."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"Not just yet. Once I have a good idea of how I'm going to tackle this, I can let you know. Just relax for now."

"Okay." She turned on her CD player and focused her attention on the latest Danielle Steele novel.

After about an hour or so, she decided to give her eyes a rest. Glancing over at Will, she saw that he had already finished a respectable portion of his paperwork. She slipped the headphones off her ears and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "How's it going?"

"Not bad," he said as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He handed her a notepad. "Can you double-check these numbers?"

She took the pad from him and mentally checked his arithmetic. "Seems right. What's this in, thousands?"

He suddenly blushed. "Not quite."

She looked at him for a moment, confused. Then her jaw dropped. "Millions?" she mouthed silently.

"Since this point last quarter. The second column is since last year."

She added the second column up. "This is your profit? Not your net worth?"

"_I'm_ not even sure what my net worth is right now. That's one of the reasons I'm having this meeting. The birthday party is just an excuse, really. I haven't seen Jeff's family in a while, and I like to keep in touch with them."

"No wonder you said that we couldn't bleed you. You were probably making money faster than we could spend it."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far. Most of what I have is either in long-term investments, or being used to expand my intelligence capabilities. I don't have that much in liquid funds."

"How much is not that much?"

"About eighty mil or so."

"How much do you pay in taxes?"

"Less than you'd think. Jeff knows some very creative accountants."

"When did you hire him?"

"About seven years ago. He had just graduated from law school, but he hadn't been able to make the usual connections that you need to be really good in the field. He'd been concentrating on his work, not back room politics. I respected that, and I respected the fact that he took time off from law school to take care of his daughter when his wife was ill."

"Are you close to his family?"

"I make sure to see them on their birthdays, send gifts on their wedding anniversary, that sort of thing. Since I put a small part of Jeff's salary into my portfolio, they make a comfortable living."

"What does his wife do now?"

"She's a data systems consultant. She and Kitty could probably talk shop for hours." He paused when the flight attendant came by to offer refreshments. "I've debated letting them both into my informant network, but it's a bit risky. It's a damn shame, though, because they're both _very_ bright. I think the odds are good that Jeff has suspicions about how I spend my time."

Rogue blinked in surprise. "Is he trustworthy?"

"Absolutely. His conversations with me fall under attorney-client privilege, since I make sure to mention some aspect of my business every time we meet. When other people are around, I keep the conversation focused on everything _but_ business. It drives Jeff crazy, but he accepts my reasoning." He signed another document and put it on the bottom of the pile.

"What's their daughter like?"

His face became reflective. "Maire? To be honest, I don't really know. I haven't seen her in a few years. I'm looking forward to this party, because it'll give me a chance to catch up on things with her."

"She knows you that well?"

He pointed at himself. "Say hello to 'Uncle Will'."

She grinned. "You've _got_ to be kidding."

"Nope. I made a deal with her a few years ago. I match any money that she makes on her part-time jobs, pay her for high grades, do research into scholarships, and send her care packages around exam time. She's been making high honors for the past three years."

"What does she want to major in?"

"I was going to ask her that tomorrow. We'll get to Dublin at about five P.M. local time, and I'll call Jeff to find out where he made the reservations. We'll have a light dinner on our own, then get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, we'll meet up with them about ten or so, and see if Maire has any objections to an all-day shopping spree. You can go along, and Jeff and I will meet you for dinner."

"Where will you two be?"

"Going over business."

"To be honest, I was kind of hoping you'd let me listen in on that."

"I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Why not? Bobby's taught me enough about accounting that I won't come off like a total idiot in front of Jeff. We can all go with Maire after you're done."

He thought about it for a moment. "Okay then. I'll call Jeff later."

About an hour later, they were served a light lunch, then offered headphones for the movie. Will declined politely, choosing to get back to work. Rogue simply closed the shade to her window and fell asleep.

As he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, Will noticed a pair of blue eyes peeking out from behind the chair in front of him. He smiled, and a blond girl, about four years old, leaned over to smile back. Will put a finger to his lips, then pointed at Rogue. The girl nodded, then pointed to the seat next to her and let her head go limp as she closed her eyes.

Will grinned, then held one finger up for attention. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he took out his sunglasses and put them on in place of his reading glasses. He then started typing again, holding his hands like a piano player and waving his head from left to right. The girl giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. Will grinned at her again, then got back to work.

After a while, Rogue awoke and stretched as best she could in her seat. "What's our time like?" she asked with a yawn.

"New York time or Dublin time?"

"I meant how much more flight time."

"About two and a half hours. Want some coffee?"

"Sounds good. Black, please."

Will smiled and went to the commissary. A minute later, he came back with a mug of steaming hot coffee. "Here you go," he said as he gave it to her.

"Thanks." She sipped at it and looked at Will's paperwork, which had diminished considerably. "You got a lot done," she noted.

"The laptop is a big help. I'd be spending most of my time going over my notes without it. I'll have to think of some way to thank Forge for making it."

"The best way to do that would be to take one of Ororo's shifts so she can go see him."

"I think that's doable." He reviewed another document and signed it.

Forty-five minutes later, Will completed the last of his business work. "Glad _that's_ finally over," he said to himself as he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Are you going to rest now?"

"I don't want to risk damaging the plane," he said to her in a low voice.

"That's a good point."

"Besides," he said, "I still have to set us up with a hotel room." He reached down into his seat's armrest and pulled out the phone which was stored inside it. After digging his wallet out of his back pocket, he ran a credit card through and dialed a number. "Hello. I would like to rent one of your double occupancy rooms for this evening and tomorrow evening. The highest grade which you have available. We'll be arriving at about six or seven P.M. Last name is Riley, I'll be paying by charge card, Bank of Ireland Platinum Visa. I'll give you the account number when I arrive." He listened for a moment. "That will be fine. Thank you." He returned the phone to its place inside the armrest.

"We all set?"

He nodded. "I think that's it. We'll figure out where to eat once we've checked in. If customs is too much of a hassle, I may decide to crash at the hotel early."

"That's right, you haven't taken a nap today. Are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm okay. The crowds at customs may wear me out, though, depending on how bad they are." He opened up a pocket in his laptop case and removed both a CD case and a small pair of earphones. "I think I'll just listen to some music for a while."

"Okay. What do you relax to?" She took a look at the title of the CD.

_"AC/DC?"_

* * *

They got through customs fairly quickly, then grabbed a taxi to the Merrion Hotel. After checking in and settling into their room, they went out to find a place to eat. A few minutes later, they decided to simply drop in at what appeared to be the local pub. Will chose to sample the stew and the house root beer, and Rogue had the fish and chips, choosing to sample the stout, which she found to be slightly bitter, but good nonetheless. "I could start developing a taste for this stuff," she admitted.

"It's been keeping Irish workers going for years," Will told her. "I remember reading somewhere that Guinness is so dense in nutrients that you could live on it for a little while."

"Don't tell Logan that. He might try to prove it."

They paid for the meal, then went back to the hotel, where Will called Jeff to arrange their meeting time, which they decided would be eight o'clock the next morning at Jeff's office. "Ask Nuala and Maire to come by the office at about two. We should be nearly done by then. We'll have the limo pick us up, then go to the shops and the restaurant. If she's up to the idea, we can hit a club afterwards. All right, see you at eight." He hung up the phone, then yawned. "What time is it?" he asked Rogue.

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Almost eight."

"It might be a good idea for me to hit the sack early," he mused. "I'll need an hour or two before the meeting to let my brain kick in."

"I'll be going to bed early, too. That nap I took on the plane threw my internal clock for a loop." She stretched, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out. "I think I'll take a shower first, though."

"You expect me to be able to sleep now that I've heard that?"

"You could always watch," she told him with a wicked smile.

"Now _there's_ a thought."

She laughed and kicked off her sneakers, then walked towards the bathroom, unbuttoning her shirt as she went. She closed the door partway behind her, then tossed her clothes onto a chair just outside the door.

Will stood up and changed into his pajamas, then climbed underneath the sheets and dimmed the lights to a level which was comfortable enough for him to fall asleep, but bright enough for Rogue to find her way around the room. He quickly started to nod off, barely hearing the sound of Rogue's hair dryer from the bathroom.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened, and Rogue walked out, wrapped in a towel. "Maybe I should take the other bed," she whispered to herself when she looked at Will's sprawled form.

Will's eyes opened. "Only if you want to," he told her.

She smiled. "I'd rather have the company." She took her body stocking and microfiber mask from her bag and slipped into them, smiling at Will's appreciative whistles and growls. "You're a dirty old man," she told him in a teasing voice.

"You're complaining?"

"I didn't say _that_." She tied her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through the back of her mask as she put it on. Will moved over and lifted up the sheets as she curled up beside him, tucking her head into the crook of his arm. She wrapped her arm around his chest and sighed happily. "Sweet dreams, love."

"Hey, that's _my_ line."

"Oh, shut up and kiss me."

* * *

They awoke at six the next morning, after Will tossed the ringing phone halfway across the room. "The designers did their job too well," he grumbled.

"How's that?"

"The telephone ring was the fiendish product of both engineers and psychologists. It was specifically designed to be so annoying that you'll answer it just to shut it up."

She laughed. "Go hit the showers. I want a bite to eat before we go to see your lawyer."

They sampled the continental breakfast, then grabbed a taxi to an area of the city where glass office buildings and nineteenth-century flats stood side by side. Will asked the driver to stop beside a small, tasteful three-story house on a corner. He stepped out of the cab and took Rogue's hand as she stepped out. "Nice place," she commented.

"Jeff only uses three rooms. The rest is other offices."

"Do you own the building?"

"I considered buying it, but I decided that it might be a little intimidating for Jeff if I literally owned the roof over his head. I just rent the space."

"What floor is he on?"

"Top. He likes the view," he explained upon seeing her features droop.

She sighed. "Okay. Let's start climbing."

Three steep flights of steps later, they reached a plain office door, with a small nameplate on the side which read _J. Riordhan, Esq_.. Will tapped lightly on the door, and it opened a few seconds later.

The man who appeared from behind the door was a few centimeters taller than Will, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes which were framed by horn-rimmed glasses. "Will!" he said with a smile. "You're actually on time!"

"Miracles _do_ sometimes occur," Will replied dryly before breaking into a grin. "How are you doing, Jeff?"

"Great. Come on in." He motioned them into the office, most of which was devoted to a large desk, two plush chairs, and several file cabinets. Shelves of law books lined the walls, and a small refrigerator was nearly hidden in one corner.

"You've cleaned up," Will said approvingly.

"I've been switching to electronic records for most of the work. It makes things go a lot faster. You haven't introduced me to your lovely companion." He looked at Rogue with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"My mistake. Jeff, Miss May O'Hara. May, this is Jeff Riordhan, my attorney, broker, and partner in crime."

"My pleasure, Miss O'Hara," Jeff said, giving her a firm handshake. "I can see that Will's description of you wasn't an exaggeration."

"Oh, we'll get along just _fine_," Rogue said with a smile.

Will glanced at the clock. "We'd better get started. We have a lot to go over." They all sat down, and Will opened his briefcase, booted his computer up, and handed Jeff the documents which he had reviewed on the plane. "Everything looks like it's in order. What's the total right now for the fund as a whole?"

Jeff glanced at Rogue uncertainly. "You can trust May's discretion. She and I have been together long enough for her to have a good idea of what I've been doing."

Jeff shrugged. "It's your decision." He tapped at his computer for a few seconds. "As of closing in Hong Kong, you were worth… you want it to the nearest million? Okay, about forty-five point two seven billion." He glanced up. "Uh, Will? Your girlfriend just fried a chip."

Will turned his head towards Rogue, then reached over and pushed her chin upwards, closing her mouth. "Remember to breathe, dear."

She stared at him. "You are taking me on the _biggest_ shopping spree later."

"He can only access a small percentage of that money," Jeff pointed out. "Most of it gets rolled back into various investment plans."

"Besides, May, you're worth a good chunk of change yourself by this point. Remember the funds I started? They've been doing very well."

"But they haven't been open that long," Rogue protested.

"You're forgetting that the stock market has been doing _very_ well lately," Jeff reminded her. He tapped at his keyboard again. "Right now your share of the fund is worth about one hundred twenty-seven thousand punts."

"What's that in dollars?"

Jeff thought for a moment. "The punt and the dollar have been running pretty even lately. Let's say it's about one hundred twenty-five thousand. Your initial loan is paid off, so you can touch it immediately if you want."

"I'd feel better if you didn't, though," Will admitted. "I'd like to see the funds at ten million apiece before any withdrawals start."

She nodded, still dazed at the notion of suddenly being a rich woman. Mystique had set up an account for her years ago, of course, but Rogue had not touched it since joining the X-Men, feeling that it was somewhat hypocritical to use money derived from the sorts of activities that she was now supposed to work against. She had never gotten rid of the money however. She was a 'hero', true… but Mystique didn't raise a fool.

"Did you want to go to the Crypt today?" Jeff asked Will.

He nodded. "We'll take care of that after everything else is done today. They won't be awake for another twelve hours or so, anyway. Let's start with the TKO fund. How much is it up by?"

Jeff tapped at the keyboard again. "You've been pretty conservative with that lately. It's up by about one and a quarter points."

"Move it into the moderate risk division. I may be using it soon."

"Right. What next?"

"Let's just go over it all one part at a time."

Over the next six hours, Will and Jeff reviewed every aspect of Will's finances. Rogue listened intently, amazed at both the scope and breadth of Will's influence in the business world. If she understood it all correctly, Will had been spending the past three years quietly amassing large shares of stock in many of the publicly traded companies of the Standard and Poor 500. He had been averting suspicion by using dummy companies and purchasing through one-on-one transactions rather than on the open market. He chose not to exercise his voting options, so he was not bothered by the usual corporate infighting found in the corporate world.

They were finishing up the last of the foreign bonds when Jeff's phone rang. He looked at Will, who nodded, then picked up the mouthpiece. "Hello, Jeffrey Riordhan speaking. Oh, hello, love. Yes, I'm almost done. Just come on up, I should be ready by the time you get here. Goodbye."

"That was our signal?" Will asked.

"They're at the end of the block. Why don't you two step into the loo until they get here?"

"Good idea." He and Rogue stood up and went into the small bathroom which adjoined Jeff's office, leaving the door open just a crack.

After about three minutes, they heard the other door open. "Hi, Da!" a cheerful feminine voice announced. "Ready to go?"

Jeff sighed theatrically. "I'm sorry, love, but I can't go just yet."

"What?" was the hurt reply. "But why?"

"I just finished talking with a client. He and I have some business to discuss, and I can't leave the office until it's taken care of." As he spoke, Will and Rogue quietly opened the bathroom door and sneaked into the office. Rogue could only see the backs of the two women who stood in front of Jeff's desk. They looked similar, with willowy builds and long, straight brown hair. She hung back as Will stood about half a meter behind the one on the left.

The smaller person sighed. "What's so important?"

"Seeing my favorite niece," Will said casually.

The girl let out a high pitched peep of shock and surprise, then spun around, looking up at Will's face. "_Uncle Will!_" she squealed in delighted recognition as she jumped into his arms and received a bear hug. "I thought you were in the U.S.!"

"Happy birthday, _kidin_," he told her with a grin. "I decided to surprise you this year. How does it feel to hit sweet sixteen?"

"Not much different," she admitted. "I still have homework due tomorrow." She looked over his shoulder at Rogue. "And this has _got_ to be May."

"Pleased to meet you, Maire," Rogue said with a smile as she offered her hand to the girl.

Maire's grin widened. "Oh, I just _love_ your accent! You're from the Low South?"

"Deep South," Rogue corrected her gently. "Mississippi, to be exact." As she spoke, she studied the girl closely. Maire appeared to take after the woman standing next to her, who Rogue assumed was her mother. The pale, clear skin of her face was framed by straight brown hair, which was tied back in a loose ponytail. Her brown eyes displayed a mixture of playful humor, excitement, and affection.

Maire disengaged herself from Will's embrace and shook Rogue's hand firmly. "I'm glad I finally got the chance to meet you. Uncle Will talks about you in all his messages to us."

"He writes you letters?"

Will snorted. "Who writes letters nowadays? I use email like everybody else." He glanced at his watch. "We'd better get going."

"You're not leaving already, are you?" Maire asked in a hurt voice.

"No," Nuala said, speaking for the first time, "we all are. Tell her what she's won, Will."

Will switched his voice to a passable imitation of Don Pardo. "You, Maire Riordhan, will spend a day in the fashion shops of your choice. After choosing an ensemble, you will be taken to dinner, where you will dazzle all present with your charm and grace. The evening will be crowned by a visit to Renard's, one of Dublin's premier dance clubs. Lastly," he finished as he removed a small box from his jacket pocket and handed it to her, "you have won a free box of Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat!"

Maire laughed again. "You never change, Uncle Will. But how are we going to get there? Our car's a little too small for all of us."

As if on cue, Jeff's phone rang, and he picked it up. "Hello, Jeffrey Riordhan speaking. Thank you, we'll be right there. Your answer awaits," he told Maire as he hung up the phone and put on his jacket.

They all left the office and went down to the street, where the limousine was waiting for them. "Ladies first," Will said with a smile as the chauffeur opened the door. Maire, Nuala, and Rogue all stepped inside, taking the rear seat, and Jeff and Will settled into the front seat, which faced the rear of the car. "So, Maire," Will asked, "where can we find your dream outfit?"

Maire thought a moment, then looked at her mother and Rogue. "Are you two going to get outfits?"

"I sort of have to," Rogue confessed. "I wasn't given much time to pack."

"Be nice," Will said mildly.

Maire leaned forward and gave the driver an address. "This place should make us all happy."

Soon afterwards, they stopped in front of a small shop which was tucked between two brownstones. Will spoke with the driver for a few moments, making sure that they could agree on a break schedule (on Will's tab, of course). A few minutes later, they stepped into the store, the ladies went straight to the racks, and the men found chairs to sit in while they read the paperbacks which they had hidden in their jacket pockets. "You know this is going to take a few hours," Jeff said.

"I'm an old hand at it by now," Will shrugged. "Just be ready to 'ooh' and 'ah' when they come out for opinions."

"Right. By the way, you never _did_ explain why you were incommunicado for a few days."

Realizing that Jeff was talking about the road trip following the events in Salt Lake City, Will decided to tell part of the truth. "Exhaustion. I did nothing but rest and bum around, then spent a few days in Chicago with May and some other friends."

Jeff nodded in approval. "Good. I've been telling you for years that you push yourself too hard." He looked at Will closely for a moment. "She's a good influence on you. I haven't seen you this relaxed in a long time."

"It's easy for me to relax when I'm around May. She keeps me from taking myself too seriously."

Their conversation was interrupted by Maire, who practically skipped into their field of vision. "What do you think?" she asked them as she showed off her outfit, which combined a gold lame tube top, a full-length pleated skirt in burgundy with shots of gold thread providing highlights, and a black, waist-length jacket.

"You look fabulous, Maire," Will gushed. "Your father and I will have to beat back the boys with sticks."

"Thanks," she replied, smiling. "May asked me to tell you that she'll be out in a few minutes."

"There's no need to rush. We have plenty of time."

"Not really. _You_ still have to get an outfit."

Will looked at his grey tweed jacket and slacks. "What's wrong with this?"

Maire rolled her eyes, muttering a few naughty words in Gaelic. "It's fine for a board meeting, but not for a dance club. You may have grey hair, Uncle Will, but that doesn't make you an old man. It's _my_ birthday, and I say that you're going to wear something that'll get attention tonight."

"You tell him, sugar," Rogue said as she walked out in a knee-length green skirt, black turtleneck, and tweed jacket. "I can never get him to dress down when we go out."

"It looks like you're outnumbered, Will," Jeff observed.

"You're not going to rise to my defense?"

"Do I _look_ suicidal?"

"I'm doomed."

* * *

"Okay," Will sighed when they reached a mens' clothing store that met with the ladies' approval, "did you have anything in mind?"

"Let's start with the jacket," Rogue decided.

"What about it?"

"Lose it."

Will shrugged and handed his jacket to Jeff. "Keep an eye on this," he requested. "I'll wear what they pick out to the club, but not to dinner. And I get power of veto," he warned the women.

"We'll see," Rogue said ominously. "Any ideas, Maire?"

"Let's see how he looks in blue," the young woman said thoughtfully. "That should go well with his hair and eyes. Black would work, too."

"Let's combine both," Will suggested. "How about a grey shirt, blue pants, and black coat?"

"Sounds a little basic."

"What if the coat was black leather?"

Rogue thought about that. "That could work. Let's see how it looks on you."

After a few minutes of searching through the racks, the requisite items were found, though Rogue needed a moment to mentally convert the sizes from European to U.S. "Give these a shot," she told Will as she handed him the clothes.

"Okay," he said with a resigned expression as he went to the dressing room, "I'll be out in a minute."

"I'm not sure if this was the right outfit for me, May," Nuala suggested as she sat in her chair. She was dressed in what could best be described as the typical Little Black Dress, with red heels and a red, sequined jacket which made her appear to be a bit curvier than was actually the case.

"You look great, Nuala," Rogue said with a grin. "By the way, I wanted to ask…. what does your name mean?"

"It's from Celtic mythology. Will was amused by that, as I recall. It used to get me in trouble one in a while back when I was in school."

"Why?"

"Try having a pagan name in a country that's ninety-seven percent Catholic."

"That must have hell for you…. no pun intended."

Nuala shrugged. "It gave me a thick skin, and taught me not to give a damn about what other people think. Jeff told me that's what he found most attractive about me."

"The fact that you were… and still are… the most beautiful woman that I've ever met didn't hurt, though," Jeff said as he sidled up behind Nuala and wrapped his arms around her.

"Thanks, love," Nuala murmured as she leaned her head back and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Rogue found, to her surprise, that she was not made uncomfortable by the open display of affection, as she might have been in the past. _Will's been influencing me more than I thought._

Maire simply rolled her eyes. "Save it until you get home, da."

"Are they checking each other's tonsils again?" Will asked as he walked out.

"'Fraid so, Boss," Jeff said with an unrepentant grin. "What's the verdict?"

"I like it," Will admitted as he studied himself in the mirror. His coat had a somewhat glossy sheen to it which complemented both the navy shirt and the highlights of his hair.

"So do I," Rogue agreed. Then she frowned. "Something's missing, though."

"You're right." Will picked up his jacket and removed his sunglasses. "Much better," he said as he put them on. He looked at Maire. "What do _you_ think, _kidin_?"

"Not bad," Maire said thoughtfully. "I think we can do something with it."

"You think he's salvageable?" Rogue asked.

"There's definite potential here," she conceded.

"I'm so glad to hear that," Will said dryly. "I was afraid that I'd be the only billionaire at the party that no one wanted to talk to."

* * *

After a sumptuous meal at Maire's favorite restaurant, they were driven to Renard's Will advised the driver that they would likely be inside for several hours. "Do you have a beeper?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell you what," he offered. "I'll pay your cover fee if you promise that you won't drink, and will leave as soon as I buzz you."

"No problem, sir," the young man said with a grin as he stepped out of the car and tossed his cap inside.

It was still relatively early in the evening, so they did not have long to wait before entering the club. Will reacted immediately to the loud music, quickly inserting his earplugs. A brief talk with Maire led them to a table above the dance floor, where a respectable crowd had already begun to gather.

"I'm going to go down there, okay Da?" Maire asked Jeff.

"Just check in with one of us every once in a while," Jeff requested. "I don't want you vanishing on us."

"I'll come by every half hour or so," she promised. "Besides, if there _is_ any trouble, I always have the _last_ gift Uncle Will gave me." She grinned and bounced off.

"What did you give her?" Rogue asked.

"A ten centimeter, one-hand action, liner lock folding knife."

"He gave me one, too," Nuala added. "I never go out without it. Some parts of Dublin can get pretty dangerous at night."

"You don't have to tell me about that," Rogue supplied. "I live an hour or so from New York, and I've run into some of the Underground." _The Morlocks count, I guess_.

"Is New York really that bad?" Jeff asked.

"It's like any other city," she shrugged. "As long as you're careful, you won't have any problems."

A waitress came by to take their orders, and they were all sipping at their drinks a few minutes later. Jeff had ordered a shaken vodka martini, Nuala a glass of Merlot, Rogue a pint of Guinness, and Will a Coke. "So, May," Nuala asked with an impish smile, "what's a girl like you hanging around with a lump like Will?"

"He's my sugar daddy," Rogue said, grinning. "I'm just sponging off him until somebody better comes along."

"Oh," Will said in mock anger, "so _now_ the truth comes out. I was wondering what the getaway car was for."

Jeff laughed. "You two definitely make a good team. What did you have to do to make him say the 'L' word?"

"You wouldn't believe it," she said in perfect honesty. "I'm still not sure _I_ believe it."

"Well," Will drawled, "you're the one who said that you wanted an exciting, passionate relationship. I supply the first part, and you supply the second part."

"He _does_ have a way with words, doesn't he?" Nuala said with a smile.

They chatted about various innocuous subjects for a while. Rogue was surprised at how easily she was able to relax with the married couple. Although both Jeff and Nuala were professionals who were wealthy in their own right, they were absolutely without a trace of ego, a trait which she surmised had endeared them to Will. They were honestly interested in her as well, and she felt slightly bad that she had to give them answers which were, at best, only half-true.

They were interrupted by the appearance of Maire, who bounded up to their table, practically quivering with excitement. "Just checking in," she assured them.

"Enjoying yourself, _kidin_?" Will asked.

"I'm having a blast!" She took his hand and tried to pull him to his feet. "Come on. I want to get at least one dance out of you tonight."

Will looked down at the dance floor with a dubious expression. "Well," he mused, "it's not _too_ crowded yet…"

"Great!" She virtually flew down the stairs, eliciting a squawk of protest from Will as she dragged him along for the ride.

"I'll be down in a few minutes," Rogue called to him just before he dropped out of sight. "He'll probably be playing with the band before the end of the night," she told Nuala with a chuckle.

"He's still playing music, then? He used to entertain Maire by rattling off old songs and poems. She loved it whenever he did anything by Shel Silverstein."

"He plays every once in a while. He's been concentrating on his writing lately."

"That's good to hear," Jeff said with some relief. "He has a novel due soon. I don't want to have to field calls from his publisher."

"I don't know how far along he is, but he's been spending most of his free time working on it."

"He should be done pretty soon, then. He usually doesn't take more than two months or so at a time."

Nuala sat up in her chair, glancing over the railing. "Well," she decided, "he isn't making _too_ big a fool of himself."

"He probably asked the deejay to play some Eighties tunes," Rogue said, having noted that The Escape Club's _Wild Wild West_ was playing.

After the dance floor had experienced the extended mix of Donna Summer's _I Will Survive_, Rogue, Jeff and Nuala decided to head down themselves. As she went down the stairs, Rogue surreptitiously checked to make sure that her gloves and the collar of her shirt were firmly in place.

She found Maire and Will after weaving her way through the crowd. "One side, girl," she told Maire in a mock growl. "I'm cutting in."

"No problem," the younger girl replied with a grin. "I'll find something closer to my decade." She laughed at Will's expression as she danced off.

"I wonder if I could spank her without being called a dirty old man," Will thought out loud as the song ended.

"I thought we already agreed that you _are_ a dirty old man."

"True," he conceded, "but that's not for public consumption." He glanced upwards as the next song began. "Oh, _good_," he said with an evil grin. "I _like_ this one." He adjusted his coat. "I was sort of in a Gothic mood tonight, anyway."

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Rosetta Stone," he answered as he put on his sunglasses to hide the fact that his eyes were starting to glow. He wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her closer.

_I'm told that eyes_

_are the windows of the soul_

_Godspeed be with you_

_Drawn inside by razor lines_

_cut_

_And now I'm up upon the ledge inches beyond the edge_

_Indications start to shine_

_Cloud nine white line this time I'm on adrenaline_

_I'm on adrenaline_

_I'm on adrenaline_

_I'm on adrenaline_

Although her earplugs muffled the sound of the music, Rogue was still able to feel the vibrations of the bass through the air and floor. She slipped his hands underneath Will's coat and pressed herself against him_. I may as well experience some kind of 'bump and grind' tonight_, she thought wryly.

Will, surprisingly, didn't seem to mind the close contact. He playfully dipped her down so low that her hair brushed the floor, then drew her back up. She draped her arms around his neck and gave him a beguiling smile. Even through her several layers of clothing, she was able to feel a spark between the two of them, and a warmth beginning to build within her.

_Don't get too wound up,_ she chided herself. _It's not worth the grief, and it won't be fair to Will if you're bitchy later. Just relax and enjoy the music._

They danced through several songs, including a medley of Fifties tunes. The next song was a slow tune, and Rogue leaned her head on Will's shoulder, enjoying the feel of his breath wafting through her hair. For a few moments, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, and she was only aware of his presence, of the way his hand rested casually on her hip.

The moment was, if not ruined, at least interrupted when Maire walked up to them and tapped on Will's shoulder. "Sorry to break it up," she apologized, "but I have class in the morning."

"No problem," Will said as he and Rogue disengaged themselves from one another. "We'll drop you off at home, then we and your father can visit the Crypt." They made their way off the dance floor, and Will pulled out his phone and dialed their driver's beeper.

"You two all set to go?" Jeff asked them once they had returned to their table.

Will nodded. "I beeped our driver. Just let me pay for our drinks." One swipe of a credit card later, they left and got back into the limo. Jeff gave the driver his home address, and they were off a moment later.

"So, _kidin_," Will asked Maire, "did you enjoy yourself?"

Maire's face lit up. "It was the best night I've ever had!" She jumped forward in the seat and embraced him fiercely. "Thank you, Uncle Will!" She turned to Rogue and started to open her arms to hug her. Rogue accepted the hug freely, but was careful to gently direct the girl's head towards her shoulder, rather than against her cheek.

They dropped Nuala and Maire off at their flat, then went back to Jeff's office, where they paid the driver. Will gave the driver a one hundred punt tip. "Thanks for being so patient," Will told the man.

"Thank _you_, sir," was the reply. "You're the first customer I've had in years who remembered that I was there."

* * *

After the limo had driven off, they got into Jeff's Renault, and drove to a flat about fifteen minutes away. "Welcome to the Crypt, May," Jeff said as he parked the car.

"It looks innocent enough," Rogue commented as she glanced at the flat, which looked like every other one on the street.

"Just wait until you get inside," Will told her. He had kept his eyes closed for most of the ride, pleading fatigue as his reason. Rogue had easily surmised, however, that he was reining his powers in so that he would not affect the computers.

As they stepped up to the door, Rogue was slightly startled to find that there was a keypad discreetly hidden on the side of the jamb. Jeff removed a keycard from his jacket pocket, inserted it into a slot on the keypad, then entered a six-digit number. The door clicked a moment later, and they went inside.

The room which they entered was dimly lit, but Rogue was able to see that there were about a dozen surge suppressors on the floor, linking several servers which had been double-stacked. A moment of mental arithmetic told her that there were thirty-six servers in the room. The walls held shelf after shelf of racked CD-RWs, and a grooved track was built into the floor, guiding a robotic arm which fed them into one of four readers. "I'm impressed," she admitted. "Are these things always on?"

"Twenty-four seven," Jeff confirmed. "We're constantly updating our intelligence."

"That why we have the air conditioning on at full blast," Will added. "This place would be a sauna without it. The _really_ expensive part, though, was paying for the emergency generators downstairs."

They walked up a narrow flight of stairs to a plain wooden door which stood against the right wall. Jeff was about to knock on the door when Will tapped him on the shoulder.

"Let me," he whispered, smiling evilly. He stepped forward at Jeff's nod, and changed his expression to one of repressed, cold fury. He firmly rapped on the door three times, then waited.

Rogue's angle of view was not good enough to allow her to see behind the door as it opened inward. The shriek and subsequent slamming of the door, however, were hard to miss.

Will grinned as he looked at her. "I know it's evil, but I just _love_ doing that."

"How long do you want to give them?" Jeff asked.

"Let's make it about three minutes. You _did_ rent the jumbo dumpster this time, right?"

"Right. They threw all the trash and contraband out the window the last time we did this," he explained to Rogue. "It took us two days to clean it all up. We decided to save a step this time and put a dumpster in the alley."

"Makes sense to me."

The sounds of bumping and crashing lasted for about five minutes. When the door opened again, a young man with shoulder-length blond hair stood nervously behind it. "H-hello, Mister Riley," he stammered in an American Midwestern accent.

"Good evening, Mister Holland," Will said smoothly. "Tell me, I'm curious… why was I just shut out of my own facility?"

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just that… er, that is, we weren't expecting you, sir. We needed a moment to clean up."

"Ah. I see." He paused for a moment. "May I come in now?"

"Uh… yeah, sure!" The door was nearly jerked off its hinges by the nervous employee, and Will, Jeff and Rogue calmly stepped inside.

The room they entered was somewhat chilly. This was most likely due to the fact that a window was open. The center of the room was dominated by a workbench which was cluttered by an assortment of electronic components. A single work shelf, interrupted only by doorways, was attached to the walls. Then large-screen workstations were evenly spaced along the work shelf. Another shelf in a corner held several faxes, document scanners, and laser printers. The room was lit primarily by the light from the monitors, and only a single, incandescent light fixture on the ceiling provided any additional illumination.

Five young men dressed in jeans and T-shirts stood nervously, waiting for Will's next move. Rogue guessed that the oldest of them was twenty-five, the youngest sixteen or seventeen. They all had the unnatural pallor of those who rarely venture out into natural light. Three of them were Caucasian, one black, and one Asian.

"Hello, gentleman," Will said in greeting. "I was in the area, and thought that it might be a good idea to see how things were going. Have there been any problems that I should know about?"

"No, sir," the Asian replied quickly. "No problems, no complaints. Would you like a full report?"

"I don't have that kind of time, Harry. Just give me the short version. There are some other things to take care of first, though.

"Gentlemen, It's my pleasure to introduce you to Ms. May O'Hara." He inclined his head towards Rogue. "May, meet the Crypt Crew. This is Mister Roger Holland, Mister Mike Winston, Mister David Ryan, Mister Kevin MacGregor, and Mister Harry Zhao."

Rogue gave each of the men a friendly handshake. "Nice to meet all of you."

"David," Will requested, "I'd like you to help May set up a few alternate identities. Could you run her through the gauntlet?"

"No problem," he replied. "If you'd please follow me, Ma'am? He led Rogue into another room, where a bluescreen was set up against one wall. "If you could stand over there, I can set up the cameras."

"Sure," Rogue agreed with a smile.

She stood and waited while David set up a tripod and digital camera. "All set," he told her a minute later. Then he paused. "Um… I hate to have to tell you this, but…"

"Let me guess," she said dryly, knowing what was coming. "You need me to strip."

He grimaced as he nodded. "That's probably why Mister Riley asked _me_ to do this. You're not my type."

"Care to clarify that?"

"I can ask my boyfriend to explain if you like," he explained as he set up some lights.

"Oh. That's a little different, then." She removed her clothing, placing it on a nearby table, then stood in front of the screen again.

"A little to my right, please… good. Now turn to the right…" He took several shots of her from the front, side, and back. "Now for the tedious part."

"What's that?"

"Look up." She did so and saw another camera, which was mounted onto a track shaped in a half-circle, which was in turn attached to a circular track. "This camera will give me the data needed to create a three-dimensional texture map of your body which we can use to make a computer model. We'll be able to make still pictures of you from any angle, in any outfit. That way, if you need 'proof' that you were somewhere else at some point, we can supply it."

"Good planning," she agreed. "But if I _ever_ see these pictures on the Web…"

"No chance. I'll be encrypting the files myself, and the CDs will be under lock and key. Those perverts out there will never see them."

"Good."

"Please hold still now," he requested. "This'll take about ten minutes."

She remained motionless as the camera was lowered and began to take a series of pictures. It crossed the length of the half-circle in one second, taking ten pictures as it did so, then moved slightly to her right and repeated the process.

"In case you're wondering," David said, "the camera moves one degree after each pass. We'll end up with thirty-six hundred exposures." He paused a moment. "Maybe that was the wrong word to use. Anyway, once this is done, we'll get pictures of you in high and low heels to get your posture right, then a few of you smiling and talking so I can match your dental profile. Making the teeth look perfect is the first mistake that amateurs make."

Rogue found it difficult to hold still for the required amount of time, but she managed to endure it. She posed while David took pictures at eight different angles of her posture in both sets of heels. She was then asked to give a wide smile, and finally to open her mouth wide and tilt her head forward and back so that he could get good shots of her teeth.

"That should do it," David finally said. "You can get dressed while I process all of this." He sat down in front of the computer and proceeded to ignore her for the next few minutes as he called up files.

Rogue dressed quickly, then stood beside David and watched him work. He pulled up a head shot of her, then ran a program which added a white blouse and suit jacket to her frame. "What color do you want it?" he asked her.

"Kelly green." The color of the suit changed appropriately. After another moment, the blouse was changed to a cream color.

After another five minutes, several other head shots of Rogue were 'clothed' in various suits and casual outfits. "That should be enough," David said. He sent them to the color printer, then pulled up another program. "What languages do you speak?" he asked.

"French, German, Spanish, Russian, and Japanese."

"Good. That means I can be creative." He thought for a moment. "We'll make you a citizen of France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Ireland, and the U.S., and vary your age between twenty-four and twenty-seven. Your Irish and U.S. passports will be as May O'Hara. What do you want for a middle name?"

"Irene." _That's for you, Destiny_, she thought.

"Place of birth?"

"Let's make it Biloxi, Mississippi."

Over the next five minutes, Rogue 'became' Olivia Claubert, a Fashion model from Saint Chapelle, France, Brigette Darkhoelme of Dresden, Germany, Stephanie Robin of Bern, Switzerland, and May Brigid O'Hara of Cork, Ireland. David sent the documents to another printer, then opened up a drawer on his desk and fished out the appropriate passport covers. "They should be ready in about ten minutes," he told her. "I'll bring them out to you."

She replied with a nod and headed towards the door, but came back a moment later. "Can you burn me an extra copy of the CD?"

"No problem. Why?"

"That's my little secret. Don't tell your boss."

"Ah," he said, smiling. "One of _those_ secrets."

Rogue grinned and entered the main room again, where she found that Will was instructing the rest of the Crypt Crew on the subjects which he wanted them to focus on for the next few weeks. "Keep an eye on any unusual activity in the business sector. I may be making some large transfers of funds during the next quarter."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "Anything else?"

"That should be it for now." He glanced up at Rogue. "Ready, May?"

"Almost. I'm waiting on David. He says ten minutes."

Will nodded, then glanced at the researchers, who were all staring at Rogue with smitten expressions. "Roger, why don't you tell Miss O'Hara a little bit about our setup here?"

_Well_, Rogue thought to herself, _now I know how he earns employee loyalty_.

She played dumb for the duration of the tour, during which she was shown the multitude of cable and satellite links that the lab was connected to. She found that she was honestly impressed by their competency. They had managed to push their intelligence capabilities close to the limit of what was available through off-the-shelf technology. They evidently found time to tinker around, as well, because she was given two gifts: a small radar detector which had a range three times greater than standard units, and a small device which would allow her to use a pay phone without putting in any money.

David came back into the lab just as her tour was nearing its end. "Here you go," he told her, handing her a large manila envelope. "The rest is your department, sir," he said to Jeff.

"Are you staying through tomorrow?" Jeff asked Will.

"Probably not. I have to get some things done by tomorrow evening, so we'll probably be out of the country by noon."

Jeff frowned at that. "I can set them up, but they'll take twenty-four hours to process."

"Set up what?" Rogue asked.

"Your line of credit. It'll draw off your share of the fund." He sat down at the terminal and started typing. "Can I see the passports, please?"

Five minutes later, May O'Hara (and her alter egos) had a line of credit through the Bank of Ireland, with the gold card to prove it. "I can take care of the payments if you want," Jeff offered. "One less sheet of paper for you to worry about."

"Sounds good to me," she agreed. "Is there anything else we need to do?"

"That should cover it," Jeff said as he stood up. "I have to get home and get to sleep, Will."

"Sorry, Jeff," Will apologized. "I keep forgetting that you have problems adjusting to my hours. That should do it, gentlemen," he told the Crew. "Keep up the good work, let me know if you need anything, and _please_ remember to go outside once in a while. If you guys don't get some fresh air soon, you're going to develop mildew. Ready, May?"

"All set. She placed her new I.D. back into the envelope and stepped over to the door. "Thanks for all your help, guys," she said to the Crew. "I really appreciate it." She blew them a kiss as she shut the door behind her.

The young men were silent for several moments. "Do you think…"

"If we could ever…"

"Not a chance."

"Lucky bastard."

"_Sigh_."


	48. Chapter 48

Jeff dropped Rogue and Will off at their hotel. "You heading straight back to the States?" he asked.

"We might make a stop in Scotland," Will replied. "It'll depend on how we feel when we get up. Your phone's ringing."

Jeff glanced down at his cellular. "It's Nuala," he said as he activated the phone. "Yes, love? I just dropped them off, and I'm on my way home. Is Maire in bed? Good." He listened for a moment. "You're wearing _that_? I'll be home in twenty minutes. I have to get home," he said to Will as he put the phone down. "All that dancing put Nuala in a frisky mood."

"Now aren't you glad I gave you tomorrow off?" Will called after him as he drove away.

"Something tells me he'll be sleeping late," Rogue said with a grin.

"And while we're on that subject, I need to hit the sack. What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost three," she said, glancing at her watch.

"What time did we eat?"

"About seven, I think."

"No wonder I'm hungry. Feel like something from room service?"

"I could stand a bite. I want to get out of these heels first, though. My feet are killing me."

"I'll give you a foot rub."

"You're too good to me."

They took the elevator up to their room, and Rogue floated over to a chair and kicked off her heels as soon as Will had closed the door. "Ooh, my aching legs."

"Just let me order our meal," he requested as he picked up the menu. "How does a big bowl of stew with dumplings sound?"

"Add a pint of Guinness to that and you're on."

"No problem." He placed the order and hung up the phone. "It'll take about ten minutes," he informed her as he removed his own shoes and sat on the floor in front of her, tucking one leg underneath him and bending the other one, placing his foot flat on the floor. "Let's see your right foot first."

Rogue smiled and leaned back, then balanced her right ankle on Will's knee. Will began by pressing his thumbs into the arch of her sole, following the contour of the muscles and moving upwards towards the ball of her foot. He applied firm pressure to that area, then bent her toes forward and back to flex the muscles.

Rogue cooed with pleasure and stretched, arching her back and raising her arms over her head. "Oh, that's _so_ much better."

"Glad you liked it. Let's see the other foot."

A few minutes later, after she had virtually sunk into the cushions, Rogue heard a knock at the door. "You got that?" she murmured.

"Of course. Be right back." She kept her eyes closed, listening as he stood up and walked over to the door. He opened it, thanked the bellhop, then closed it again quickly. She heard the squeak of the cart as he approached her again. "Your midnight snack is served," he announced.

She opened her eyes and smiled, lifting the glass of stout off the cart and taking a deep drink. "Oh, I needed that," she sighed. "One hot shower, and my night will be complete."

"I think that can be arranged," he told her as he sipped at his mug of birch beer. "What time did you want to go to Muir Isle?"

"Let's play it by ear. I feel like sleeping late."

They finished their meal in comfortable silence, and Rogue pushed her bowl away with a satisfied growl. "That's it for me. If I have anything else today, I won't be able to fit into my uniform when we get back."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," he assured her. Then he paused for a moment, thinking. "Just out of curiosity, how much effort does it take for you to fly? Does it burn off any calories?"

"It depends on what I'm doing. If I'm just hovering, then it's just like standing up for a long time. Gliding around is like walking, up to Mach One is like running, and anything above that is a wind sprint. If I'm carrying something heavy, then I have to factor that in."

"Does the altitude make any difference?"

"Only if it's high enough to make the air thinner. Sometimes I like to go high enough to see spots."

"That's risky," he said disapprovingly.

"And standing in front of a bullet isn't?"

"Good point." He finished his stew and placed the bowl on the tray. "I think I'll get ready for bed."

"Oh no, you won't," she informed him. I made you an offer last night, and now you're going to take me up on it."

The look he gave her was bemused. "What offer was that?" Then his eyes widened. "Oh."

"Well?" she asked coyly as she stood up, tugging gently at his shirt collar. "Aren't you coming?"

"Now _there's_ a double entendre if I've ever heard one."

She laughed and continued pulling until he stood up, then led him towards the spacious bathroom of their suite. After he sat down on the (lowered) toilet seat, she gently nudged him so that he sat back. "Just relax," she encouraged him. "I want you to enjoy yourself."

She reached back and slowly unzipped her skirt, letting it slip down her thighs and fall to the floor. She had deliberately chosen her turtleneck for its length, and it reached down to just below her thighs. She wore a garter belt with her hose, and she released the clips, then slowly rolled them down. She balanced the toes of each foot on Will's knee as she slid the stockings off, causing him to whimper slightly.

"Getting hot and bothered?" she asked him in a husky whisper.

"Oh my, yes," he whispered back.

She grinned. "Good." She stepped back again and turned around. "Then I'm meeting my goals for tonight." She pulled her arms inside the sleeves of the turtleneck and, then reached back and unsnapped her bra, pulling the straps down her shoulders. She turned around and slipped one hand out from underneath the turtleneck, bring the bra out with it. She tossed it to Will with a casual flick of her hand.

Nudging the sliding door to the shower open with her shoulder, she stepped inside, closing it behind her. The door panel was made of water glass, and its wavy irregularities distorted her silhouette just enough to entice the imagination. She bent down and slipped her panties off, tossing them over the door.

"Turning the water on might be a nice idea," Will suggested. He couldn't quite keep his voice from cracking at the end.

"Hmm," she said, considering it, "good idea, Here, catch." With one swift motion, she removed the turtleneck and tossed it over the door. She then bent down and turned on the water. Within a few seconds, the room began to fill with steam.

"You're trying to see if you can give me a heart attack, aren't you?"

"You'll recover," she teased. "That's one of the advantages of being involved with somebody who's immortal."

"There's something unfair about this entire situation," Will grumbled.

"And don't think that I wouldn't take advantage of that," she said with a grin. She reached for the shampoo and started lathering her hair. "I have to entertain myself _somehow_."

After she rinsed her hair out, she picked up the hotel's bottle of liquid soap. She poured a generous amount into her hand, then slather it onto her chest, working it up into a rich lather. She deliberately shifted her weight and balanced one leg on the ball of her foot so that Will's view was slightly obscured. "Enjoying the view?" she asked innocently.

"Immensely so," he said with a lascivious grin.

She glanced downwards for a moment. "So I see."

To his credit, Will was unperturbed. "I refuse to apologize for a completely involuntary reaction," he said haughtily.

Rogue laughed, then ducked her head into the spray so that she could rinse her hair off. She opened the shower door and reached for the tower bar. She then frowned and paused, her eyes still closed. "Will, where's the towel?"

"What towel?" he asked innocently.

"The towel that was hanging from here not two seconds ago."

"Oh, _that_ towel. It must be the one I'm holding."

"Right," she said suspiciously. "How am I supposed to dry myself off?"

"Well," he drawled, "while I do admit that you're quite a glorious sight right now, I was thinking that I could do the honors. Don't worry," he reassured her, "I'm still wearing my shirt and gloves."

Rogue thought about it for a moment. "Okay. Is it all right if I keep my eyes closed?"

"Fine by me," he told her.

She slid the door open all the way and stepped out, then took another small step forward to give herself some distance from the stall. "What now?"

"Just hold that pose," his voice told her. A few seconds later, she felt the soft terrycloth of a bath towel being wrapped around her. Another, smaller towel was draped over her head. "We'll take care of your hair last."

Rogue started to say something, but was transported to blissful silence a moment later when Will began vigorously rubbing her dry, starting at her shoulders and slowly working his way down. She shivered with delight when the towel passed over her hips and buttocks.

"Turn around, please," he requested. She did so, and he made his way back up. She noticed that he pointedly avoided one area of her body, although he did seem to enjoy lingering at her bustline for a little while. He finished by toweling off her face and arms.

"Done," he announced. She opened her eyes, finding that he was holding open one of the hotel robes for her. She graciously slipped her arms into the sleeves, and he tied the belt around her waist.

"Give me a minute to dry my hair," she murmured to him, "and I'll be right out."

"Okay," he agreed. "That gives me a chance to change for bed."

Rogue hummed contentedly to herself as she brushed and dried her hair. She had surprised herself with her boldness, but attributed it to the easy familiarity which Jeff and Nuala had demonstrated earlier in the evening. She wasn't exactly jealous, but she did feel a need to reaffirm her bond with Will. The electricity that had flowed between them while they had danced had only reaffirmed that desire. The question was how best to go about it.

By the time she had stepped back into their suite, she had decided that it would be best to confront the problem directly. "Will?"

"Yes?" He had already changed into his maroon pajamas, and was sitting at the desk.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, love. You know that."

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put her feelings into words. "I was wondering… do you have any ideas about how we can… I don't know… intensify our relationship? Physically, I mean?"

He looked at her for a moment, seemingly surprised at her question. "Well," he said, pondering, "I guess that's up to you. Just what do you want?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted as she sat down on the bed. "It's just that I'm feeling a bit… wistful, I guess."

"About your powers?" He asked gently.

"Not exactly," she said, considering it. "Well, kind of… it's sort of hard to explain…"

"You don't have to, then."

"No, I think I do. Maybe explaining it to you can help me clear it up inside my own head."

He nodded. "That makes sense. Go on."

She thought for a moment. "When I watched Jeff and Nuala touching and holding each other, I started wondering if that'll ever be possible for us. This isn't about sex," she assured him. "I'm just looking for other ways that we can get closer."

He nodded again as his face registered his understanding. "Get dressed for bed," he suggested. "I have an idea."

"Okay," she said with a smile. She slipped into the body stocking and mask, then settled onto the bed. "Now what?"

"Well," he said as he dimmed the light and stepped over to the bed, sitting behind her, "Let's just see where things take us." He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her softly, and drew her close. "We'll do whatever you want to try. You take the lead."

"Okay," she said with a smile. "I owe you something, anyway."

"What's that?"

"A good tickling," she informed him just before she pounced.

She wasn't actually sure if Will was ticklish, but his nearly electric reaction supported her theory. She tormented him for a few minutes, letting him squirm, then gave him a chance to catch his breath.

"Okay," he said, gasping, "you got your revenge."

"Maybe," she drawled. "Or maybe I'll just get it in bits and pieces."

"Actually, that's how your mother threatened to get _her_ revenge."

"Ouch," she giggled. She turned around and leaned into him, shivering as he nipped at the hollow of her throat. "You're getting _very_ good at this," she noted.

"I've got a big incentive to improve," he whispered into her ear. He then proceeded to nibble on said ear for a few seconds, causing her to gasp in delighted pleasure. "I like seeing you happy."

"What about seeing yourself happy?"

"What do you mean?"

Rogue sighed. She hated to ruin the moment, but it was the best opportunity that she'd had yet to discuss the problem. "Remember what you said the last time we did this? You said that you were afraid that you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back. Why is it so important for you to do that? Why are you afraid to lose control?"

His expression sobered, and he shifted position so that she was sitting in his lap. "It's not something that's easy to explain."

"Try," she asked. "Please. Maybe I've been there. Maybe I can help."

His eyes went distant, and he paused for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "It took me a few months to pull myself together after I woke up in my cabin. I'd be rational for a few days, then slip back into the mindset of an animal. I spent days at a time fighting to control myself again… keeping the inner beast locked in its cage. I'm sure that Logan could relate to me situation. Then, once I became aware of the Chorus, I had to teach myself how to tune it out enough to be able to hear my own thoughts." His head dropped. "I'm terrified that if I let go of what little control I have, I'll never be able to get it back. If that happens, I'll fall into a pit, and I'll never be able to pull myself out."

"So you're going to keep your emotions under a lid for the rest of your life? However long that could wind up being? Let's be honest, Will, that's not realistic. You can't expect yourself to be under control all the time. You need to let yourself relax your discipline once in a while." She placed one hand on his chin and tilted his head up so that he looked at her. "I won't let you fall," she said quietly.

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. Exhaling slowly, he relaxed, letting Rogue support his weight. She cradled his head against her chest for a few moments, then eased him back onto the bed. "You look tired," she noted.

"I am," he admitted. "Keeping my powers reined in tonight was a pain."

"Well," she told him with a smile, "I'll do what I can to make you feel better."

He touched one hand to her cheek. "You make me feel better just by being here."

"That's sweet," she said, "but I think I can help the process along a bit." She unbuttoned his pajama top and opened it, exposing his chest. She repositioned herself so that she straddled his hips, then began to lightly massage his shoulders. As she did so, she covered his face and neck with soft, gentle kisses.

At first, Will remained tense, but after a few minutes, he began to relax. As he focused less on his inner anxieties and more on the sensations which Rogue was causing in him, his eyes closed and his facial muscles began to go loose. Rogue watched in amazement as he seemed to slowly become, if not younger, at least more youthful. "Wow," she whispered to herself.

He opened one eye. "What?"

"You really _are_ relaxed," she told him. I haven't seen you looking this calm in a long time."

"I haven't had such pleasant company," he said with a smile as he wrapped his arms around her and started to pull her closer to him.

"Oh, no," she said as she pulled herself back up, "_I'm_ in charge here, remember? You can just sit on your hands for a while."

"You do realize that you're driving me crazy?"

"Of course I do. That's what makes this fun." She traced her fingers down and across his chest, then kissed him deeply on the lips. She stretched out her legs and linked her fingers with his, effectively laying her body fully atop his. "I have to maintain my reputation as a sex kitten."

"That one went right over my head."

"When I first joined the team, Logan and Kurt joked that no man in town would be safe on the day I learned to control my powers. To get even, I vamped it up for a few weeks."

"So who said that your being a sex kitten was an act?"

"Why, thank you," she cooed, letting her drawl creep in full force. Then she let out a yawn. "Feel like going to sleep now?"

"Only if you're beside me," he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I think that could be arranged," she advised him as she shut off the bedside lamp.

* * *

They had a light brunch at about ten the next morning. Once they were packed, Will handed Rogue his phone, and she called Kitty at Muir Isle. "We'll be there in about fifteen minutes," she said.

"Can I talk to her for a second?" He took the phone and placed it to his ear. "Ms. Pryde? I would appreciate it if, during the next fifteen minutes, you spoke with each and every member of Excalibur, and advised them of our arrival. I would really like to avoid a repeat of what happened the last time I visited you." He listened for a moment. "Thank you. We will see you in a few minutes. Good bye." He shut the phone and placed it in his jacket pocket. "Ready to check out?" he asked Rogue.

"All set," she told him as she picked up her bag.

Ten minutes later, they walked out of the hotel and made a turn into the first space between buildings which they found. A moment later, they were approaching the residential complex of Muir Isle.

Kurt opened the door just as they came close to it. "Hello, you two!" he said warmly, embracing Rogue and shaking Will's hand. "How did your business go?"

"I made a few punts," Will said blandly. "How have things been here?"

"Quiet, thank goodness. Kitty's been amusing herself again, though."

"Oh, no," Rogue giggled. "What did she do _this_ time?"

"For the past six hours, every time the Web site for the British branch of the Friends of Humanity gets hit, they get charged for a year-long subscription to Britain's largest gay porn site."

"That's _good_," Will said admiringly. "That's _very_ good. I'll have to keep it in mind. I'll catch up with you in a moment."

They entered the building, where they were greeted by Kitty. "Hi, Rogue!" she said cheerfully as she embraced the other woman. "I heard that you got Mister Mystic here to say the 'L' word. How did you manage it?"

"I wouldn't recommend the process," Will advised. "It involves getting shot."

"That would be a drawback," Kitty agreed as she shook his hand. "How hot are your powers running today?"

"About average. There shouldn't be any problems." He hefted his computer. "I thought that you might want to take a look at the new toy Forge gave me. Just try not to erase the hard drive, please."

"No problem. Peter and Rahne should be should be down in a minute, I tried to wake Pete up early, but he's not ready to face other human beings just yet. Give him another hour or so, and he should be presentable."

"Fair enough," Rogue agreed. "Come on, we can catch up on things while you're tearing the computer apart. Besides, I want your help on a project."

Once Kitty and Rogue had left, Kurt turned to Will. "So, what did it take for you two to break down and say the 'L' word?"

"A shooting, a stabbing, and a nervous breakdown," Will replied seriously.

"That's nothing unusual for the X-folks. You already fill the 'death and resurrection' category, so you shouldn't have to worry about any imposters."

"I doubt if that's going to be a problem. Redheads are common enough, but redheads with white forelocks and prefect bodies who can fly, bench forty tons, and possess a voice that can make your glasses steam up? Not a chance."

* * *

Rahne and Piotr greeted Will a few minutes later, and Moria took a few moments away from her research to say hello.

"Mister Riley," Piotr requested, "I was wondering if you would agree to pose so that I could make a sketch of you. Kitty pointed out after your last visit that you are the only X-Man who I have not portrayed."

"I have no objections, Mister Rasputin. Would you prefer that I be in uniform or civilian clothes?"

Piotr thought about it for a moment. "Why don't you change into your uniform, and I will see what looks better?"

"That makes sense. I'll be right back." He teleported away, returning about a minute later with his uniform in his hands. "Just give me a moment to change. Where do you want to do this?"

"Moria lets me use an empty storeroom as a studio. Rahne can take you there after you change."

"You can use the bathroom," Rahne offered. "Follow me."

Eight minutes later, Will stepped back into the hall. "All set," he told Rahne. "Lead the way."

Piotr was preparing his canvas when they walked in. "I am almost ready," he told them.

"No need to rush," Will told him. "Any ideas for a pose?"

"I might have one," Rahne offered. "Rogue said that you view the collective consciousness as a giant library. Is that right?" When Will nodded, she continued. "Well, why don't you hold your sword in one hand, and a book in the other?"

"I like that idea," Peter decided. "We could pile some other books around you, and you could roll one sleeve back to show your tattoos."

"Sounds good," Will agreed.

Rahne led him to the Center's library, where they grabbed several old volumes, bringing them back to the studio and stacking them around the chair. Will sat down, spreading out his coat and letting some of the books lean against him. "Would you like my eyes to glow?"

"If you could, please."

Will grabbed his sword out of the air, placing its tip on the floor. He put his glasses on, then rolled his left sleeve back. He glanced at his left arm, and the dragons there rose up and extended to about twenty centimeters away from his wrist. "Now all I need is something to read."

"Anything in particular?" Rahne asked.

"Something historical would be nice." A few minutes later, he was engrossed in a boo on Czarist Russia which Piotr had just finished. His eyes glowed just enough to be noticeable, and the dragons positioned themselves to help support the book.

"Perfect!" Piotr declared as he picked up his brush and palette. "Now hold still while I set up an outline."

"No problem," Will said without moving his lips.

Almost two and a half hours later, the portrait was finished. "Done," Piotr announced. "You can stand up now."

"Just let me finish this paragraph," Will muttered. About ten seconds later, he stood up with a groan and stretched. "Is it ready for viewing yet?"

"I need to add some details, but the basic elements are there. Tell me what you think."

Will walked around to the other side of the easel. He studied the painting for several long moments, then nodded in approval. "Very nice work, Mister Rasputin. Do you always use watercolors?"

"For portraits, yes. They take the least time to dry. Speaking of which…" He set up a heat lamp in front of the canvas and turned it on. "I can add the details in about an hour. It should be ready for transport in three hours or so."

"In that case, I think I'll change back into my civvies. Then we can see what the ladies are up to."

* * *

"So do you think you can do it?" Rogue asked.

"No problem," Kitty replied confidently. "Ororo, Jean and Betsy all agreed to be in on it?"

"It's the only way we can make it work." She paused a moment, then grinned. "You want to help spring it?"

"Why not?" Kitty thought for a moment. "I even have the perfect outfit. I bought it to tease Pete, but it'll be just right for this." She turned her attention back to Will's computer, which had been opened up so that she could study the components. "Just give me a minute to put this back together, and I'll get right on it."

"How long should it take?"

"About an hour and a half. Less if you help me get all the components together." She gestured to a shelf of drawers against one wall, which held various electronic parts.

"No problem. Start giving me some lists."

After about an hour, Kitty had progressed enough for the structure of the objects to start taking shape. "They're smaller than I expected," Rogue observed.

"I thought it'd be nice if they weren't too noticeable. This way, they'll fit right into a pocket, or onto one of our equipment belts." She finished a connection, then pointed to the object. "And how's _that_ for an added bonus?"

"Nice. And they'll all be linked with the main unit?"

"Along with each other. Should come in handy if you're ever separated. The link range should be about a kilometer." She glanced up at the wall clock. "I should wake Pete up."

"He's still asleep?"

"Pete could sleep all day if you let him. Just give me a few minutes to toss him out of bed and into the shower."

"What if he decides to toss _you_ back _into_ bed?" Rogue asked with a knowing wink.

"I still know more about martial arts than he does."

They stepped out of Kitty's workshop and walked down the hallway to the residential wing. As they approached the kitchen, they found Meggan vainly trying to suppress giggles. "What's up?" Kitty asked.

Meggan looked at Rogue. "That boyfriend of yours is a very twisted man."

"What did he do this time?"

"Come on." They followed Meggan into the Lounge, where Wisdom and Will sat on a couch. Rahne, Piotr, Kurt, and Amanda were sitting at the breakfast bar, all grinning broadly. They motioned Kitty and Rogue to silence.

"What are they doing?" Rogue whispered to Meggan.

"The Sex Pistols," Meggan replied.

"Ready?" Will asked Wisdom.

"Ready," was the slurred response.

"One, two, three…"

"_We're the muuutants,_

_no one liiiikes ussssss,_

_and we don't caaaarrrre!"_

Kitty burst into laughter, then covered her mouth. "You're evil," she told Will once she had composed herself.

"It's a gift."

* * *

Once Wisdom had showered and downed several cups of black coffee, he was a bit more presentable. "So what's the plan for today, Pryde?"

"Good question. Feel like joining Meggan and me on a shopping trip, Rogue?"

"Sounds good to me. What about you, Will?"

"I could stand some time at a bookstore," he decided. "What about you, Miss Sinclair?"

"I'm not one for clothes shopping," Rahne admitted. "I could use a few new books, though. Is it all right if I go along with you?"

"I'd be delighted. And you, Mister Wagner?"

"Well, I do need to get a new copy of _Captain Blood_." He looked meaningfully at Wisdom.

"All right, all right," the Englishman said, raising his hands in surrender, "I'm sorry I taped over your copy. I'll pay for a new one."

"Do you need anything for your magical studies, _liebchen_?" Kurt asked Amanda.

"No, I stocked up last time. I think I'll go clothes shopping, too."

"Where were you planning o going?" Will asked politely. "I'd like to avoid London if I can."

"Does Edinburgh sound good?" Kitty inquired.

"I can teleport us there in five minutes."

Six minutes later, they all appeared in a stairwell near the center of town. "What time does everybody want to meet back here?" Kitty asked.

"Two hours sounds about right," Meggan decided.

"Would you mind leading the way to the bookstore, Miss Sinclair?" Will requested.

"Follow me," Rahne said with a smile. "See you guys later!"

"Come on, Wagner," Wisdom muttered. "I'm not going to get trapped into looking at women's knickers all day long." He gave Kitty a quick peck on the cheek. "See you later, Pryde."

"Do you have your heart set on anything, Rogue?" Meggan asked.

"I have a few ideas. You lead the way."

Rahne led Will to the bookstore, where she went straight to the Christian fiction shelves. Will spent his time bouncing between the history, psychology, metaphysics, and true crime aisles. After about an hour, they decided that they each had enough books to keep them busy for a while. "I'll pay for everything," Will offered. "I did well enough this quarter to celebrate for a few days."

"Thanks. Oh, that reminds me. I wanted to ask if you could help me find a few good books on Celtic history. I got interested in it after your last visit with us."

"Are you interested more in the history or the mythology?"

"Both, really. I just want to start looking into my heritage a bit more."

Will thought for a moment. "I think I can come up with a few books for you from my library. Have you ever gone to see Hadrian's Wall?"

I keep meaning to, but something always comes up."

"You have a bit of ethnic pride involved in the Wall. The Romans conquered the Greeks, the Egyptians, and the Gauls. Then they come to Scotland, where they find legions of naked hairy, blue screaming men and women. They say 'to hell with this', then build a big honking wall to keep the weirdos out."

Rahne laughed at that image. "Well, the hairy part I can understand. But how do naked and blue come into it?"

"The Celts… men and women… went into battle nude. It was a way to intimidate the enemy… 'I don't even need my clothes to deal with you'. As for the blue part, the Celts mixed up a sort of blue pasty make-up that they called woad. They put all sorts of mystical designs on their bodies to protect themselves in battle. Since the Celts grew their hair long, and the men favored thick beards and mustaches… one Roman writer said that the Celts could strain wine with their whiskers… they also put woad in their hair to make it stiff, so that it would stand out straight."

Rahne tried to visualize that. "It sounds so bizarre."

Will agreed with a nod. "And then, of course, they sang while they put all this stuff on."

"What did they sing?"

"'On the woad again, I'm sittin' here just puttin' on the woad again…'"

Rahne groaned and buried her face in one hand. "Rogue warned me about your puns."

"Then you should have seen that one coming."

"She also told me what to do about them."

"What's that?"

Rahne replied by snatching Will's hat off his head and hitting him with it.

"Oh." He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it. "We've still got some time to kill. Feel like a snack?"

"Sure," she replied. "There's a nice bakery three blocks down."

As they made their way down the street, Will stopped suddenly. "What's wrong?" Rahne asked him.

"There's magic nearby," he said in a low voice, "and it's directed towards us." He nodded towards a nearby alley. "Go in there. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

Once they had entered the alleyway, which was halfway in shadow due to the angle of the sun, and put their packages down, Rahne shifted to her transitional form. "Just in case," she told Will.

"Good idea," he agreed. "I'd better…"

He never got to finish the sentence, because a bolt of bluish energy shot into the alleyway, hitting him in the chest and hurling him against the far wall. He gasped in pain as he felt two of his ribs crack with the impact. The bolt remained, keeping him suspended and off his feet.

"Well, well, well," a voice said. "It looks like the disciple is not as powerful as his reputation suggests." Rahne turned towards the voice, seeing a blond man with Teutonic features stepping into the alleyway.

"Emrys!" Will hissed, bringing a bubble of blood up to his mouth. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Eliminating a rival," the German sorcerer said calmly. "My new master decided to give me quite the power boost." He shrugged. "It cost me my soul, but you can't have everything."

"I _can't_ die, you idiot," Will snapped. "Don't you even do basic research?"

"True, but I can wipe your mind easily enough. All that will be left is a living lump of power that I can draw energy from. And with your power added to mine, defeating Strange will be child's play."

Rahne growled from deep in her throat. "You won't get it without a fight, you damned fool."

"And what are _you_ going to do about it, little wolf-girl?" Emrys snapped his fingers. "Ah! _I_ know!" he exclaimed as a ball of energy formed in his hand. "You're going to _die_!" With a flick of his fingers, he sent the sphere hurtling towards Rahne.

Just as Rahne was starting to brace herself against the impact, one of the shadows of the alley rose up and enveloped the fireball, snuffing it out. Before any of the three combatants could even register their surprise, the shadows began to darken and coagulate, and a whispering noise appeared to surrounded them, seemingly coming from all directions.

_"Attacker…"_

_"Enemy…"_

"How are you doing this?" Emrys demanded of Will, his voice becoming shrill. "You have no power!"

Will responded with a cold smile. _"That doesn't mean that I don't have allies."_

_"Ally…"_

_"Protect…"_

_"Defend…"_

Will glanced at Rahne, then back at Emrys. _"Do not kill him,"_ he instructed the shadows. _"My friend would frown on it. Otherwise… use your imagination."_

The shadows leapt out and surrounded Emrys, who was gesturing wildly and babbling as he sent bolt after bolt of energy into them. Slowly, the shadows began to spin, forming a miniature cyclone, which enveloped the magician, who was beginning to scream in terror. As he started to sink into the vortex, the screaming died out. A few moments later, the vortex narrowed and slowed, and finally faded away.

Will strained his arms for a moment, and the energy which was holding him vanished with the sound of breaking glass. He landed on his feet, then walked over to Rahne. _"Are you all right?"_ he asked.

She nodded. "He never touched me." She stared at the spot where Emrys had stood. "What's going to happen to him?"

_"He'll be stripped of his power and get dropped back in this alley sometime tonight. He won't be physically hurt."_ He broke into a vicious grin. _"But he will, never, **ever**, sleep soundly again."_ He wiped the blood off his mouth with his handkerchief and looked at it with distaste_. "At least my clothes are still in good shape. I just got this outfit." _He picked up his books and looked at her. _"You ready?"_

"Sure," she said dubiously as she picked up her packages, shifting back to her human form in the process. They walked out of the alley, returning to the street and continuing on their way.

"You took that whole thing pretty well," he commented in his normal voice as they crossed the street. "I was expecting you to get a bit moralistic on me."

She shrugged. "The sorts of things that we've been running into since Mister Wisdom joined have made me appreciate the grey areas of life a bit more. I might not agree with the way you do things, but that doesn't give me the right to say that you're wrong." She thought for a moment. "You know, I wouldn't have said that a year ago."

"Why's that?"

"I've been thinking a lot about why I've been so… I guess the word I'm looking for is extremist, in the past. Do you know why Lady Moria took me in?"

"I'm afraid not," Will admitted. "I've been to busy lately to keep up with my studies on X-history."

For the next few minutes, Will became increasingly horrified and enraged as Rahne calmly described her treatment and near-death due to the instigation of Reverend Craig. Her final revelation, that Craig was her father, made him go nearly beet-red with fury.

"Your _own father_ was willing to burn you to death?" he asked in a voice that quaked with anger.

Rahne nodded calmly. "I think that I reminded him too much of my mother. He couldn't deal with his own guilt, so he took it out on me. The fact that I turned out to be a mutant was a convenient excuse to get rid of me… permanently." She noticed how Will's expression was becoming progressively murderous, and hastily tried to calm him. "I confronted him about the whole thing not long ago. I got my own measure of satisfaction."

"I _hope_ it was something satisfyingly bloody."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Let's just say that I hit him where I knew it would hurt… in the Bible Belt."


	49. Chapter 49

Everyone met back at the stairway where they had appeared upon arriving in Edinburgh. "Did anybody forget anything?" Will asked.

"No, I think we got everything we needed," Amanda replied. She was carrying several packages in her hands, and had foisted one or two others onto Kurt.

"Did you get your movie?" Rahne asked Kurt.

"Yeah," Wisdom grumbled, "he got it. It cost me thirty quid."

"I decided to test my new card," Rogue told Will. "It worked like a charm."

"Good. Shall we get going, then?" They descended the stairs until they were out of the sight of passersby on the street, and Will teleported them back to Muir Isle.

"Your timing is perfect," Piotr said once Kitty announced that they had returned. "The painting just finished drying. Would you all like to take a look?"

They waited for a moment while Piotr brought out the canvas and easel. He set up the easel so that it faced away from the others and placed the canvas on it.

The entire group walked over to the other side of the easel and took a good look at it. There was silence for a few moments. "I like it," Rahne said. "What do you think, Kitty?"

"Very nice," Kitty agreed. "It's a little different than your usual style, Peter."

"It seemed appropriate for the subject. Kurt?"

"A very dramatic approach."

The painting showed Will… or, more accurately, Archetype… sitting in the chair, which Piotr had changed to an ornately carved, wooden one. The luminescence of his eyes gave his face an almost eerie glow. His left hand rested on the pommel of a sword, but his right hand was free, since the serpents which writhed along his arm were supporting the book which he read. The chair sat atop a mountain of books, one of many in the picture. The sky was broken by rolling clouds, with the occasional bolt of lightning adding emphasis to the scene. A hole in the clouds revealed a crescent moon and some stars.

"Nice work, Petey," Rogue said in congratulations. "Were you going to keep it?"

Piotr shook his head. "I ran out of room on my walls months ago. You can have it," he told Will.

"I really don't have the wall space myself," Will admitted. "Most of my room is taken up by bookshelves."

"I'll take it," Rogue offered. "I can use it as blackmail material later."

"Just give me a few minutes to wrap it up," Piotr requested. "I would be very… annoyed… if it were damaged."

"No rush." Will said. "I'll need some time to rest once we teleport back, anyway."

Rogue gave him a suspicious look. "Why? What happened?"

"Remember Eddie Emrys from Chicago? He tried to take me down."

"What could that idiot do against _you_?" Amanda asked incredulously.

"Let me," Rahne requested. At Will's nod, she explained what had happened earlier that day, but paused for a moment. "What do I call your friends?"

"You can call them the Nameless Ones, I suppose. It's an accurate description, and it doesn't bind them to anything. And I wouldn't exactly call them friends. Allies is probably closer to the truth."

"They _do_ know that I'm on your side, right?" Amanda asked nervously.

Will nodded. "I wouldn't worry. I don't think that neutral or beneficent magic would set them off. They're more likely to react to magic with malicious intent attached to it."

Piotr came back about three minutes later, with the painting in his hands. "I placed dry mounting boards on both sides of the canvas. That and the butcher paper should protect everything."

"It won't exactly be a long trip," Rogue pointed out as she took it from Piotr and placed it next to her luggage. "Was there anything else?" she asked Will.

"Kitty still has my computer," he pointed out.

"I almost forgot," Kitty admitted. "Just give me a second." She walked through the wall to her right and whisked down the hall to her workshop. After taking a moment to make sure that she was completely solid (she still phased inadvertently every once in a while), she grabbed Will's laptop and placed her latest creations in a shopping bag from a London clothing store. She then took the bag and left the room via the door. A moment later, she handed Will the computer. "Here you go. And you forgot this one," she told Rogue as she gave her the bag. "I'd keep it, but it isn't my size."

"Thanks. I'll give you a call later." She glanced at her watch. "What time is it in New York, anyway?"

"About three A.M.," Pete replied after a moment's thought. "I had to get used to having contacts in different time zones in my Black Air days," he said in response to the looks he got.

"Ah," Will replied. He glanced to his left, and a Door appeared a moment later. "After you," he said to Rogue. He followed her, and an instant later, they were back in the foyer of the mansion.

"I wonder who's on watch," Rogue thought aloud. She walked over to the nearest terminal and tapped at it. A few keystrokes later, she had opened a channel to the monitor room. "This is Rogue and Will reporting in. Who's down there tonight?"

_"This is Dr. McCoy, my dear. How was your trip?"_

"Nice and uneventful," she told him. "How about things here?"

"The same. Are you two going straight to bed?"

"Probably. We'll see you sometime tomorrow. Good night." She clicked off the intercom and glanced at Will. "_Are_ you going straight to bed?"

"I'm taking a shower first. Remind me to send Jeff an email tomorrow, once our 'flight' gets in."

"Right. See you later."

* * *

Rogue awoke just before noon, and entered the kitchen just as lunch was being put on the table. "Mornin'," Logan said in greeting as she sat down. "You two enjoy yourselves?"

"Yeah, we did," she confirmed as she took a roll and spooned several meatballs into it. "I was able to learn a bit about Will's finances. He is a _lot_ richer than we thought."

Betsy, who was sipping at her drink, raised one eyebrow curiously. "I thought he was worth ten or eleven billion."

"Try forty-five billion." A moment later, she was slapping Betsy across her back as the telepath tried to recover from choking on her drink. "You okay?"

"Don't _ever_ do that to me while I'm eating," she begged.

"Sorry. Hi, 'Roro."

"Good afternoon, Rogue. How was your trip?"

"Enjoyable. Kitty made the items we wanted. She wants in, by the way."

"Oh, _good_," Betsy said with a wicked smile. "Jean and I were let in on it yesterday. When do you want to spring it on him?"

"Why not today?"

"I'll call Muir and let Kitty know so Amanda can bring her over."

Logan looked at the three women suspiciously. "Do I really want to know what you have planned?"

"No," they said in unison.

"I didn't think so."

* * *

Will awoke at about two, took a decadently long shower, then hopped into jeans and a flannel shirt. Just before he opened his door to enter the hallway, he noticed that a note, in Rogue's handwriting, had been taped to it. He plucked the note off and read it.

_We have to talk about something. Go straight to the parlor. Bring your laptop._

_Rogue_

One minute later, he stepped into the parlor, where he found that Xavier, Logan, Scott, Warren, Bishop and Bobby were waiting for him. "What's this all about?" he asked.

"We honestly don't know," Xavier admitted. He gestured to the easy chair which had been placed in the center of the room. "You're supposed to sit there."

Will settled into the chair. "Okay. Now what?"

"Well, I've been instructed to give you this." He handed Will a small envelope. "Don't open it yet." He held up another envelope. "I'm supposed to read this to you first."

"Go ahead, then."

Xavier ripped open the envelope and removed a single sheet of paper. "'Dear Will,'" he read. "'It has come to our attention that your recently increased involvement in financial and social matters has become a source of stress fir you. In the interests of team solidarity, it is vital that you remain focused. We have, therefore, devised a new protocol to prevent future difficulties, one which was inspired by your literary interests. You are hereby instructed to open the envelope in your hand and to read the contents in a firm and authoritative manner.'" He put the letter down and shrugged.

Will blinked, then opened his own envelope, pulling out a small card. After glancing at it, he burst into laughter. "Oh, they _wouldn't_!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Henry asked. "What does it say?"

Will didn't answer, but turned his head to one side. _"Front!"_

From the hallway, a voice called back.

"_Coming!"_

A moment later, Kitty walked into the room. She wore a cream-colored blouse and a calf-length black skirt, a combination which would have been considered conservative had the skirt not been slit to mid-hip. She had pulled her hair back into a bun, and had perched her glasses on the end of her nose. She held a small personal data assistant in her hands. "You wanted something, Boss?"

As Will (and Logan) began to roar with laughter, Betsy strode into the room, dressed in an immaculately tailored navy pantsuit. "You called?" she asked Will as she touched a stylus to her own PDA.

Ororo stepped in three seconds later, wearing a black thigh-high skirt and a loose-fitting white turtleneck. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and she had a pen nestled behind one ear. "Was there something?" she inquired.

"Think she'll do it?" Henry asked Scott in a whisper.

"Probably," Scott replied. "I'd be disappointed if she didn't."

A heartbeat later, Jean walked into the room dressed in an outfit which could only be described as every schoolboy's dream teacher… or, at least, an adolescent schoolboy's dreams. Her short tweed skirt and matching jacket were set off by a bright red turtleneck and green hose.

By this point, Will was laughing so hard that he was having trouble breathing. After about thirty seconds, he was able to get himself under control. "And where, pray tell, is the mastermind of this devious plot?"

"You have to say the magic word," a voice singsonged from outside the room.

"Okay, please."

"Wrong word," the women said in unison.

"Oh." He glanced at the card. _"Front!"_

Rogue stepped into the room, and the men's jaws collectively dropped. Her black leather skirt barely qualified for the thigh-high category, and was so tight that it was quite possible that her super-strength was the only thing which allowed her to move. She wore the white stockings which she had purchased while in Chicago, and a pair of stiletto heels which should probably have been registered as deadly weapons. Her blouse was almost indecently tight, and had several of the upper buttons undone, revealing a black bandeau bra, along with more than a bit of cleavage. She had restyled her hair into a peek-a-boo, covering one eye and partially hiding her smile. "Yes, Boss?" she asked with a husky sigh.

It took Will a moment to answer, as he had to suppress the impulse to drool. "Memo," he said in a businesslike voice.

Rogue produced her own PDA from a pouch on her belt. "Ready."

"Subject for research: the human female. Are they truly conniving, manipulative, devious creatures… or do they have some bad points?" He burst into laughter again. "Seriously, what's the idea behind all this?"

"We decided that you'd be more receptive to the idea if we could get you to laugh about it," Jean told him. "We _are_ serious about the concept, though."

"What concept is that?" Charles asked.

"That he needs some kind of personal assistant to help him keep track of things," Kitty explained. "Otherwise, he's going to get overwhelmed."

"So we four decided to split up the duty," Ororo added. "This way, it's more like a hobby than a job."

"And thanks to these," Betsy said as she held up her PDA, "we'll all have access to the same information."

"What do you mean?" Will asked.

"I designed them to be compatible with your laptop," Kitty informed him. "They all recognize handwriting and store voice data, and they'll automatically update your computer and each other. They all have GPS chips, so you'll be able to tell where everybody is, they'll act as communicators, and they'll all work simultaneously."

Will took Kitty's PDA and examined it. "It has the same security protocols as my computer?"

"They go beyond it, actually." She touched her thumb to a touchscreen set underneath the main display. "This checks for fingerprints and does a genetic scan epidermal cells by using an ultraviolet laser. Combined, they should be able to block anything short of a shapeshifter. Since we all wear gloves a lot, the stylus will also do a scan if you touch it to your skin. The main unit also checks for voiceprint."

"Can the stylus be used to check _anyone's_ DNA?" Xavier asked.

Kitty shook her head. "Not yet. I still have to work out some of the glitches that keep popping up in the program. I know I can _do_ it, but I need enough uninterrupted time at my computer before I can torture the bugs into submission. All the unit can do right now is confirm a pattern that's already in the memory. I set the genetic markers on each unit for its user, and for Will. It can home in on our communicators, though. Once I finish debugging the scan program and figure out how to pack more memory and speed into the units, I can do an upgrade. I'm going to work on making them mini-Cerebros, too."

"The color display is a nice touch, by the way," Will said in compliment.

"Is there a self-destruct function?" Bishop asked. "I wouldn't like to see this technology fall into the hands of opponents… or the general public, for that matter."

"Neither would I," Kitty agreed. "There's a program in the operating system called Napalm. It'll wipe the memory, then send a command to crack open two small caplets that are inside the unit. Once the contents mix, they'll burn, and this thing," she said, tapping at the PDA, "becomes a charcoal briquette."

"Can that program be triggered remotely?"

"From the laptop, the mansion, Muir Isle, the Blackbirds, or the Midnight Runner. It'll take the agreement of three senior team members to do it, though."

"You've outdone yourself this time, Kitty," Henry said admiringly.

Kitty responded with a smile and a slight curtsey as she swished her skirt to the side. "Can you get me back to Muir?" she asked Will. "Pete and I were planning on going out tonight."

"No problem," Will said. After Kitty finished saying goodbye to everyone, he opened a Door. "Tell Rahne I said hi."

"I will," she promised before giving him a light peck on the cheek and vanishing into the Door.

Once the portal had closed, Will turned to the other X-Women. "Can I get back to work, or are you ladies not done embarrassing me yet?"

"Well," Rogue thought out loud, "I still have to show them the painting."

He rolled his eyes. "In that case, I'll be in my workshop." He picked up his laptop and disappeared.

* * *

About an hour later, Rogue sashayed into Will's workshop, where he was putting on a tool belt. "Want any help?" she asked.

"Sure." He filled a pouch on the belt with roofing nails. "I was going to start replacing the roof."

"So the old one has to go?"

He nodded. "I'd like to recycle the wood, but the tar and shingles make that impossible. I'll just have to dump it."

"I'll toss the old panels in the dumpster. Want me to rip them off? It'll be faster."

"Okay. Just make sure not to damage the rafters."

A few well-placed, enhanced-strength taps were enough to dislodge the wooden panels, and she simply tossed them over to one side of the building. She did a quick inspection to make sure that there were no loose nails, then landed. "Now what?"

"Well, if you'll grab a hammer…"

A few minutes later, they were nailing a new sheet of OSB plywood onto the roof. After about an hour of cutting and hammering, the last piece was fitted into place. Logan sauntered over just as they came back down. "Nice work," he said after glancing at the roof.

"Thanks," Will replied. "The next step is the tar paper."

"I'll get it." He took one of the rolls of paper out of the building while Will and Rogue went back onto the roof. He tossed the roll to Rogue, and she and Will started unrolling it and nailing the sheet down. Logan, meanwhile, started bringing out the bundles of shingles and then placed a ladder up against the building. "I can put down the first row while you're finishing the other side."

"All right," Will agreed. He glanced over the edge of the roof, then frowned. "Think we should cut the chimney holes yet?"

"I'd wait until you have enough bricks. We'll just put asphalt shingles there for now. They'll be easier to cut through."

"Good idea. By the way, who's been keeping the fire going while I'm away? I haven't thought to ask."

"Bishop changed the patrol route so that it goes right by here. Whoever's on detail just pops in, tosses in a few logs in, then runs right back out."

"Was that his idea?"

Logan nodded. "He seems to be interested in what you're doin'. You'd have to ask him why."

"And how many batches of bricks have been done so far?"

"The fourth one just came out of the pit yesterday."

"That's sixty-four, then. I think that's enough to get started on the base of the kiln. I can get to work on that once the roof is done."

"You going to start building it yet?"

"I might. I could set up another reflector over the base. Do we have anything we could use as a flat griddle?"

Some rummaging through the tool shed produced a sheet of metal which had once been part of a Sentinel's chest. Rogue bent some pieces of rebar into a makeshift frame, and they placed the sheet atop it. "That should hold up under the weight of a few bricks," Will decided.

"Want to put in a batch yet?" Rogue asked.

"Why not? It makes sense to do it now, before we build the fire." They put a dozen bricks on the plate, and Will started a fire underneath it a few minutes later. They then got back to work on the roof.

Henry came by just before five to find that the roof was nearly finished. "You three have certainly been industrious."

"Thanks to my helpers," Will said, "we should be done with this tonight. The only exterior work left is the gutters, and I can carve them later."

"So what's next?" Rogue asked.

"I'm going to put the rest of this flashing on the posts in the back of the building so that nothing catches fire. After that, I'll get to work on the wood shop." He thought for a moment. "I think I'll order that windmill and battery tomorrow."

"Do you think your powers will cause any difficulties?" Henry asked.

"I'm going to add a cutoff switch. If I have any problems, I'll just turn off the power. I'll keep some candles and oil lamps on hand, and the forge and kiln should provide some light."

Henry nodded. "I came by to let you know that dinner is almost ready."

"In that case," Rogue decided, "I say we call it a day and go get cleaned up."

* * *

Jean and Ororo had collaborated on dinner, resulting in the interesting combination of yogurt-covered chicken and scalloped potatoes. After dinner, Scott announced a surprise Danger Room session. There was some grumbling, but everyone dutifully marched out to change into uniform.

"What's today's plan, Chuck?" Logan asked from the staging area fifteen minutes later.

"Survival." The walls of the Danger Room melted away a moment later, to be replaced by a barren, devastated urban landscape.

"Oh, great," Logan grumbled. "Another alternate future."

"I'm not so sure," Will disagreed. "It might just be downtown Detroit."

"Point."

"Who are we fighting?" Warren inquired.

A synthesized voice boomed through the air a moment later:

"_Surrender, mutants!"_

"Never mind."

The sound of shifting gears announced the approach of the Sentinels, which walked out from behind several buildings and began to approach the X-Men. "The Mark III model," Ororo observed. "Challenging, but not impossible."

Will looked up at where he knew the observation booth was. "Can you give me some markers to work with, Xavier?"

"_Already done. Those halogen lamps are the four corners of the room."_

"Got it," Will replied as he took note of the locations of the markers.

"_You don't get out until all of the Sentinels are inactive. Begin."_

The Sentinel closest to them reached out one hand, then fired several energy beams from its fingers. "Scatter!" Ororo barked. Those who could took to the air, while the others ran for cover.

"Any ideas?" Bobby asked Henry as they paused to take a breath.

"I think we should compare notes." He tapped at his communicator. "Beast to Archetype."

"_Archetype here."_

"Can you teleport off a few pieces of our adversaries?"

"_I'm honestly not sure, Henry. If they were real, it wouldn't be a problem, but I'm not sure if it'll work in here. Are they mechanical, or just energy?"_

"They could be either."

"_What happens if a foreign object enters the Room? How do we handle cleanup?"_

"We have lasers that will disassemble the molecular structure of non-organic material. It's part of the basic cleanup program."

"_In that case, keep your distance from the Sentinels. There may be some fallout."_

"From what?"

"_You'll see."_

The Sentinels continued their march forward, oblivious to the Doors which opened above them. The lava which fell on their heads soon afterwards, however, most definitely got their attention.

"Where did you find the lava?" Henry asked Will.

"_One of the uninhabited Japanese islands."_

"Put 'em on ice, Drake!" Logan yelled once the robots were glowing red-hot. Bobby quickly dropped the ambient temperature around their targets, and they were soon covered in thick coats of ice.

Rogue built up some speed, then smashed her way through the now-brittle chests of the Sentinels. Another pass let her knock off their heads.

As the robots collapsed to the ground, Scott ended the program. _"Well, I think you just set a time record for this particular scenario."_

"All right!" Bobby said, signaling Henry for a high five. Henry's responding hand slap threw him off-balance and sent him sprawling to the floor.

Will, however, seemed dissatisfied. "That really wasn't much of a workout. Feel like sparring for a while, Logan?"

"Swords?"

"Of course."

"Mind if I join in?" Betsy asked. "The automatic partner's been getting predictable lately."

"I don't have a problem with that," Will decided.

While Logan and Betsy got their swords from their rooms, Scott changed the Danger Room programming so that it resembled the traditional Japanese _dojo_, complete with _tatami_ mats and scrolls hanging from the walls.

Logan and Betsy returned a few minutes later, each holding a practice _katana_. "How do we want to do this?" Betsy inquired.

"_Logan fights the winner?"_ Bobby suggested from the control booth. The three looked at one another and nodded. Logan walked over to one corner of the room and sat in _sieza_.

Will and Betsy each stepped back so that they were each out of the reach of one another's blades. Betsy gave the traditional bow, while Will raised the hilt of his sword to his face in a salute.

Betsy immediately sprang out onto an attack stance, but Will took a step back, keeping his blade slow and turning slightly so that his sword arm was slightly obscured. They spent several moments slowly circling one another, each waiting for the other to show some weakness or opening. Betsy decided to take the initiative, and moved in for a swing which would graze Will's arm, hopefully leaving him open for a 'killing' strike.

Will, however, had other ideas. Twisting quickly, he dodged Betsy's overhead sweep, moving so that his back was less than an inch from the blade as it descended with a hiss. He kept the point of his sword low, poking it out from underneath his coat and deflecting Betsy's blade just as she completed her strike. As Betsy attempted to regain control of her sword, Will used some of the force of the strike to help propel his own blade in a long arc which he ended just before the edge of the sword touched the back of her neck.

Betsy cursed silently as she relaxed her grip and let her blade drop to the floor. "I can't believe I let myself do something that stupid."

"You're used to techniques using curved blades," Will suggested, "and my sword can take a harder blow from the side than yours can. Don't feel too bad… it's too Mickey Mouse a strategy to use in a real fight." He lifted the blade off her neck and stepped back. "Want to try it again?"

"I think I've embarrassed myself enough for one night," she decided. "He's all yours, Logan."

Logan stood up, picking up his own _katana_ as he did so. "I hope you don't expect that sort of thing to work on me."

"I've got a few other tricks," Will said with a shrug. He smiled evilly, raising his sword into a defensive position. "Come a little closer, and I'll show you a few of them."

"I'm sure," Logan growled as he leapt forward.

The next few minutes were literally a blur, as Will and Logan parried one another's strikes, increasing the speed of their blades until the people in the observation booth couldn't keep track of things. "When should we step in?" Bishop asked.

"I don't see the need," Jean answered. "They're both pretty centered right now. I'm not reading any anger at all. They're enjoying themselves, actually."

Will jumped back and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it into a corner. He let the tip of his sword drop low, then tipped his hat to Logan. "Good workout," he said a breathless voice.

"Not bad," Logan agreed. "You ready to call it a night?"

"Not a chance." He nodded his head towards Logan's sword. "That's just a blank, right? Nothing special about it?"

"I go through a couple of them a month," Logan shrugged.

Before he had finished lowering his shoulders, something covered his face, and he was thrown flat on his back. A moment later, he heard a snapping sound and felt something pressing against his Adam's apple.

"_Uh,"_ Scott's voice said, _"sequence over."_

Logan slowly lifted one hand and pulled Will's hat off his face. "Neat trick," he admitted. "How'd you break my sword?"

Will reached behind his back and drew out a curious-looking dagger, which split into three blades once he squeezed the hilt. "A blade-breaker," he explained. "I found an old design one night while I was wandering around the Chorus, so I fed the dimensions into our CAD/CAM unit."

"Nice. That's why you asked about my sword?"

He nodded. "I wasn't about to break something valuable." He grabbed Logan's wrist and helped him to his feet. "To be honest, I wasn't sure if it would work. Blade-breakers are mostly European in design, but I decided that the design weaknesses of a _katana_ made it an idea worth trying."

Logan took the dagger and examined it. "Can you make me one?"

"Machine or handmade?"

"Let's say handmade. It'll give you something to keep you out of trouble."

"Fat chance of that," Rogue said from where she stood in the doorway. She took a step back as the two men approached. "Woah. You two are heading straight for the showers."

"No problem," Logan agreed cheerfully. "I'm hittin' the sack, anyway. See you two in the mornin'." He walked to the elevator.

"What about you?" Rogue asked Will.

"I think I'll go to bed myself. I need to get my body clock reset to Eastern time."

"Okay. Betsy wants my input for some shopping, anyway. See you tomorrow?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"Great. See you then. Bye, 'Roro!" Rogue waved cheerfully to the older woman as she left the room.

Will started to walk out to the elevator, but Ororo blocked the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked him.

He blinked. "To my room, so I can shower."

She shook her head. "No."

"No?"

"No. Go on," she told him, gesturing. "To the men's showers with you."

"I can't smell _that_ bad," he muttered to himself as he walked towards the locker room. He was surprised to find that Ororo followed him.

"I'll be providing the shower tonight," she explained upon seeing his expression. "It's my way of saying 'thank you' for that backrub you gave me."

"Oh. In that case, I'll be just a minute."

Ororo waited patiently outside the locker room as Will changed out of his uniform and wrapped a towel around his waist. "It's safe," he told her.

"It really wouldn't bother me all that much if it wasn't," she told him as she walked in. "Nudity was never much of a concern where I grew up." She focused for a moment, and a small rain cloud formed inside the showers. A moment later, a steady, intense rain was falling on the floor tiles.

Will took his shampoo and body wash out of his locker and stepped into the center of the cloud. A moment later, He tossed the towel out onto a nearby bench. "I'm sure the fact that you never get cold helped a bit."

"I'm sure it did." She let the cloud become a bit denser, obscuring Will's body a bit more, then stepped into the showers and sat on the bench. "I also spent quite a bit of my youth alone, so I was never exposed to any standards of modesty."

"I can't argue with the result," he said as he shampooed his hair, "and all those years of walking kept you in great shape." He paused a moment, thinking. "Did you have any problems once you started wearing shoes again?"

"Not really. I had worn shoes until I was about six, so my feet had already been bent into the proper shape. Now I'm perfectly comfortable either way."

Will nodded. "I was lucky, I suppose. My body maintained its general shape after I finished healing."

"And a very nice shape it is," she said as she appraised the outline of his form.

"Now, now," he chided. "I'm taken."

"So? I may not be able to get anything from the store, but that doesn't mean that I can't window shop."

"Funny," he said as he finished lathering up his torso. "I'm ready for the rinse cycle."

Ororo intensified the rainfall until it became a virtual torrent, and Will quickly rinsed himself off, slicking his hair back and stretching up onto his toes. "That should do it," he said after a few minutes. "Could you toss me my towel, please?"

"I have a better idea," she replied. She dispersed the cloud and created a strong, warm breeze in the room, which surrounded Will and quickly dried him off.

He stood still for a moment, breathless from the force of the wind. "That was almost overwhelming," he admitted as he walked over to his locker and took out his robe, deciding that if Ororo wasn't going to make a big deal about nudity, there was no reason for him to do so. He looked at his hair in the mirror. "This is going to take a while to comb down. How in the world do you keep your hair from becoming a rat's nest?"

"It took me a while to learn enough fine control," she confessed. "It's second nature to me now, though. I can just keep it in the back of my mind while I'm riding the winds."

They walked over to the elevator. While they waited for it to descend, Ororo looked closely at the dragon tattoos on Will's forearms. "Do those still hurt at all?"

He shook his head. "No. I've sort of gotten used to them. I'm always aware of them, though."

"How so?"

He took a moment to put it into words. "It's sort of like wearing glasses, or a ring that you've had on for years. I don't actively think about them, but I know that they're around."

She nodded as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. "My awareness of local weather is somewhat similar. I usually don't think about it unless I want to alter things, but I know if there's any change taking place."

"I know that your emotional state can affect the weather around you. Does it work both ways?"

She shrugged. "I've been told that I can get a bit cranky when things outside are very extreme. I suppose that at times like that, I'm not at my best in observing my own moods."

"Very few people are when they're under stress." He stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened. "Well, I have breakfast duty, so I'd better get to bed. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Will," she said fondly.

She went up to her own room and undressed. As she settled underneath the sheets of her bed, she thought back to her youth in Kenya. Perhaps it was time, she decided, for the Wind-Rider to visit her people again. And perhaps, given what had happened the last time she had gone alone, it might be best for her to have company. In any case, it was high time for some of her new family to meet some of the old one. Having decided that, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**: Many of my readers have written to me asking about the delay in this latest chapter. All I can plead is that life got in the way. First, there was the kidney stone debacle, which landed me in the hospital for three days (write me and I'll tell the story about how I stopped breathing for several minutes while in the E.R.), then the bizarre schedule which I was forced to keep while working in a department store during the holiday season, which had me catching up on my sleep at every possible moment.

I would also like to express my heartfelt thanks to those who voted for Will as Best Male Character, and The Archetype Association for Best X-Men Team Story in the 1999 CBFAA Awards. I hope that this and future chapters will justify your support.

On a personal note, congratulations are in order for my uncle, Joseph Roberts, who won $250,000 last Saturday on _Who Wants to Be A Millionaire_. Way to go, Joe!


	50. Chapter 50

Holdrege, Nebraska

06:49 CDT

The young man took his double latte from the woman behind the counter and sat down at one of the patio tables of the café. He unfolded his paper, looking at the weather prediction for the day, then turned to the local news. There was nothing of note, so he moved on to the international scene. After scanning the headlines, he put the paper down in frustration.

_Today's such an important day,_ he thought to himself_. Why hasn't everybody else noticed?_

A cute blonde gave him the eye as she jogged by, but he was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice her. He kept scanning various sections of the paper, hoping that he would find some notice or column marking the significance of the day. Finding nothing, he sighed and looked at his watch. "I guess there's still time for word to get out," he said quietly. "May as well relax until then."

* * *

Salem Center

07:59 EDT

Will opened up the refrigerator and took out a small plastic container. Opening it up, he sniffed at the contents. "Good," he muttered to himself. "It's still asleep."

He took a saucer out of the cupboard and placed the container on it. "I'll just give you some time to wake up," he said to the container as he started getting breakfast ready.

"Morning," Rogue said cheerfully as she walked into the room.

"Morning," he replied with a smile. He looked closely at the black silk blouse she was wearing. "Is that new?"

"I got it last night. What do you think?"

"It looks great on you. Of course, I'm somewhat biased…"

"I won't say anything if you won't." She stretched, causing him to whimper slightly as he watched her. "I've got perimeter duty this morning. How about you?"

"Rifle practice with Bishop, then medical training with Henry."

"We'll both be busy, then. Want to just play it by ear tonight?"

"Sounds good. What do you want for breakfast?"

"French toast?" she asked hopefully.

"Your wish is my command."

As the other team mansion residents filtered in, they chatted amiably, taking no notice of the container, the contents of which started to awaken from its slumber…

* * *

Holdrege, Nebraska

10:15 A.M. CDT

The morning shopping crowd mingled about the square, entering and leaving the department stores. Crying, contrary children, demanding that they just _had_ to have the latest toy offering, were dragged along by their parents. Busy executives tried to balance driving and speaking on their cellular phones at the same time. Messengers sped by on bikes, trying to get documents to their destinations in record time.

The young man watched it all passively, never changing expression, sipping away at his fifth cup of coffee. The time was approaching, he decided, but not quite yet…

* * *

Salem Center

09:45 A.M. EDT

"All right, now slide the bolt into place…"

Will complied, listening for the click which told him that the piece was in the correct position. Under Bishop's watchful eye, he had already taken apart and reassembled his rifle three times. He was convinced, by this point, that the man would not be satisfied until he could literally do it blindfolded.

"Once you're done with that," Bishop decided, "we'll try some target practice again. I'll be adding distractions this time, so it should be a bit more challenging."

_Oh, joy_, Will thought sourly. "How did the search for depleted uranium bullets go, anyway?"

"I found a source. I've been making them a few at a time. I've been experimenting with various powder loads, so they'll have a bit more kick than the standard round."

After Bishop was satisfied with Will's competence, they went to the Danger Room and practiced shooting at both paper and spinning targets for about an hour. "You're getting better at this," Bishop observed.

"It's getting easier to get into the right mindset." Will fired the last dart from the chamber and stood up from his lying position. "The stock extension helps, too." Logan had modified the wire stock of an Israeli Uzi for use with the rifle.

"I noticed that you were a bit more focused. By the way, I finished that Tom Clancy book I borrowed."

"Just make sure to rip up the card when you put it back." Once he realized that his collection of books had become the _de facto_ lending library for the Institute, Will had set up a small stack of index cards on one of his bookshelves, with the simple request that anyone borrowing a book write its title and their name on a card. Will had a habit of misplacing books, and had already bought 'replacements' for several borrowed books, so it was hoped that this system would prevent him from purchasing too many duplicates.

Will spent the next hour with Henry in the medlab, where they reviewed various emergency procedures, then covered various aspects of first aid. "You haven't been tested on our field medical kits," Henry pointed out.

"Given my effect on electronics, are you sure it's a good idea?"

"I'd be more comfortable if you at least had the proper training." Henry took two of the Portable Triage Units out of a cabinet and handed one to Will. "Have a seat. I'll take it one function at a time. Press the button next to the trackball. The system is menu driven and will respond to voice commands if you have both hands busy. The system computer should be able to run you through most procedures. If you need it, however, there's a basic first aid manual inside the main storage unit, here. It also contains a pneumatic injector, and a dried oxygen pack which is connected to the oh-two line, which I'll show you in a moment.

"The keypad allows you to select drugs and set dosages. The pharmacology unit contains several broad-base analgesics, tranquilizers, and antibiotics, so you should be able to at least stabilize your patient's condition until you can get them to a medical facility. These interface points will let you download your information to another computer so that you can save time.

"The camera eye for the computer is here on the bottom, in the center. This side has the line for oxygen, a suction tube, and a small supply of plasma. The other side has surgical implements and plastic staples. You can set the dissolving time for the staples with the main unit before you insert them.

"The unit can perform some minor surgery automatically… just place the unit over the wound and tell it what to do. It will inject drugs into the wearer itself, using these hip points, if it decides that it's necessary."

"Why didn't it do that when Rogue was injured in Salt Lake City, then?"

"Rogue's skin is too resilient for the injector to penetrate. I'm already talking with Forge about using adamantium or carbondium syringe points in the next model."

Will nodded. "That raises a point, though. If my patient's in shock, their powers might be going haywire. Does this thing have an inhibitor collar on it?"

"It generates a mild inhibitor field. It won't knock out powers, but it will reduce them to the point where they can't affect the external environment. In Rogue's case, the feedback that knocks you out won't kick in for a few seconds, so you should be able to do some quick procedures if you have no other choice. You'd probably still be better off wearing gloves, though, if only to keep the wound area sterile."

"Good point. Have you got a pair of vacuum-sealed gloves that I can keep in a pocket of my coat?"

"Right here." Henry leaned back and reached into a drawer, tossing the gloves to Will. "Now, let's run through a few basic scenarios…"

"Just so long as I don't have to perform a sex change operation…" Will muttered.

"Do what?"

"A lopitoffamey."

* * *

While Will and Henry reviewed the medical information, Warren and Betsy walked into the kitchen.

"So after I finish at the bank, we can go shopping and _what the hell is THAT?_"

The white, amorphous blob was bubbling over onto a plate, seeming to expand as it slowly attempted to escape its container. It was thick and viscous, methodically sliding off the edge of the plate and onto the counter.

Warren unfurled his wings and pushed Betsy behind him. "It might try to attack. _Bishop!_"

The security-conscious man ran into the room. "What is it?"

Warren pointed to the blob. "Blast that thing!" Bishop obeyed immediately, drawing his sidearm and firing…

Will and Henry jumped up at the sound of the alert klaxon, and once Henry determined its location was the kitchen, Will teleported them there instantly.

They arrived to find that the kitchen was covered in white globs, which were splattered everywhere from the floor to the ceiling. "What happened?" Henry demanded.

"There was… something… on the kitchen counter!" Warren gasped.

"It's been dealt with," Bishop said as he holstered his pistol.

Will looked at the scorch mark on the counter, then at Warren. He sighed and collapsed into a chair. "Let me guess… you saw a white blob…"

"Right," Warren confirmed.

Will sighed again and looked at Bishop. "Congratulations. You are responsible for the summary execution of my sourdough starter."

Betsy burst into laughter. "We just called an alert over a _yeast?_"

"Looks that way," Will confirmed. He looked at the wreckage mournfully. "It took me three months to grow that."

Bishop, at least, had the good grace to look chagrined. "Sorry about that."

"Just clean it all up. I'll make frozen breadsticks tonight." He walked out of the room, shaking his head.

Betsy just kept laughing.

Fifteen minutes later, Bobby walked into the living room, finding that Will and Logan were watching _Where Eagles Dare_. "Anything else on?" he asked.

"What's wrong with this?" Logan countered.

"You know I'm not a fan of war movies."

"Think of it as a spy movie, then," Will suggested.

"No, thanks. I have perimeter duty, anyway. I couldn't convince one of you to trade, could I?"

Will thought about it for a moment. "I'll do it if you take my next shift at monitor duty."

"Deal."

"Just give me a minute to change."

Five minutes later, Will reentered the room, wearing hiking boots and a light jacket. "You armed?" Logan asked him.

"Three knives and my pistol."

"Good. Pick up the mail while you're out there, willya?"

"I'll get it on my last pass."

Will accelerated to enhanced speed once he left the building, and quickly made two circuits of the Institute grounds, stopping once at his workshop so that he could add wood to the fire. On his third pass along the lakefront, he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye, and quickly ducked behind a tree to get a closer look.

A young doe timidly stepped out of the woods and stepped over to the lake to drink. Will watched her for a few moments, then, as quietly as possible, approached her.

He got to within a meter of the doe before she noticed him. Her eyes widened in fright as she turned her head to face him, but she made no move to run.

Will tried to radiate calm and understanding as he slowly moved one hand towards her. She trembled slightly, but did not move as he reassuringly stroked her flank. She then lifted her muzzle to his head and sniffed at him for a moment.

After about three seconds, she stepped back and looked at him in a manner which would have been considered quizzical in a human. She then turned away and gracefully walked back into the trees.

Will crouched down onto one knee and stared at the spot where the deer had been. After a moment, he smiled, then looked up. "You can come out now."

Jean floated down from the treetops. "I didn't want to interrupt you." She paused a moment. "That was amazing."

"Most wildlife doesn't seem to be too afraid of me. Now that doe knows that I won't hurt her." He stood up. "I'd better finish my patrol. See you later." He set off at a jog along the shore of the lake.

Jean watched him leave, a bemused expression on her face. _The man channels spirits, comes back from the dead on a regular basis, and runs a public relations campaign for Bambi. I don't know whether to be frightened or amused._

* * *

North Platte, Nebraska

11:07 A.M. CDT

Dr. Joseph Gregory picked up his clipboard, as usual, and began his daily rounds of the hospital. He spoke with several of the patients and orderlys, checking to make sure that medications and other treatments were being administered properly.

As he passed one particular room, however, he froze. He glanced inside the room, making sure that he wasn't mistaken. Then he panicked. _"Nurse!"_

The head nurse for the wing ran down the hall to him. "Yes, Doctor?"

"Where is the patient for this room?"

"Richard Hirt? He was given his release paperwork this morning."

"That's impossible. Let me see the release order."

The nurse led him back to her station and handed him the form. He read it, then shook his head. "This can't be right. Get me Doctor Lin at County, immediately."

Two minutes later, Dr. Gregory was arguing with the phone. "How could you sign a release order for Richard Hirt without asking me?"

_"Richard Hirt? I signed a release for Robert Hart. Your people read it wrong."_

"Oh, my God," was the reply. Dr. Gregory slammed the phone down, then dialed another number. "This is Doctor Gregory at the County Psychiatric Hospital. Get me the Police Commissioner. We have an extremely dangerous patient at large."

* * *

Salem Center

11:32 A.M. EDT

Will poked his head into the kitchen. "Need any help?" he asked Betsy.

"No thanks. I've got it," she said as she put the first batch of grilled cheese sandwiches into the oven. "I just have to let the soup heat up."

"What did you make?"

"New England clam chowder."

He nodded approvingly. "Want me to set the table?"

"Could you, please?"

"Coming right up." The table was ready by the time everyone started arriving.

The conversation over lunch was light and cheerful. Will, Xavier, Betsy and Warren discussed how some recent changes in the tax code would affect their holdings. Logan, Scott and Bishop reviewed some recent intelligence reports from their sources, and Rogue showed Jean and Ororo a recent catalog of the latest fashion offerings from Paris.

Once lunch was finished, Will went up to his room to take a short nap. He was just about to pull back the covers of his bed when there was a knock at his door. "Come in."

Rogue entered the room, them shut the door behind her. She wore a pair of black Capri pants and a blue turtleneck. "Want some company?"

He smiled. "I'd love some." He waited while she put on some white cotton gloves and her microfiber mask, then pulled the sheets over them both as they settled into the bed. Rogue nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder, and they both drifted quickly into sleep.

* * *

North Platte, Nebraska

11:26 AM CDT

"Damn it, Commissioner, we have _got_ to find him!

"Why's he dangerous? Look at his file, you jackass! He's a paranoid schizophrenic with religious delusions who has been off his medication for… six hours now. And see that last drug on the list? That's an X/F suppressor… X/F as in X-factor. Our boy out there is a mutant… a high-level telepath/energy manipulator, no less! Look at his case history… what do _you_ think he's going to do now that he's out?

* * *

Salem Center

Will and Rogue were entertaining themselves within a shared dream, one in which Rogue was playing the part of a Renaissance noblewoman and Will a troubadour serenading her from below her balcony. She looked down at him and giggled. "It's too bad that this has gone out of style."

"I could always switch to a cello and start belting out _Is You is or is You Ain't My Baby_."

"I'll give it some thought." She looked around at the landscape. "Any idea where we are?"

"Northern Italy would be my guess." He picked up his mandolin again and started playing_ Smoke on the Water_.

"Keep that up," she warned, laughing, "and I'll drop one of these flowerpots on you."

"I like to live dangerously." He played a few random notes, then paused, listening for a moment. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

He didn't answer for several seconds. "You'd better hop down from there," he advised her. "The tower might not be there in a few seconds."

"Can I fly down?"

"It's a dream. You can do whatever you want."

"Okay." She jumped off the balcony and floated down. "What's the problem?"

"I'm not sure yet. Brace yourself for a second."

A moment later, the ground underneath them simply plummeted away, falling away until it was simply a pinpoint in the grey mist. A few seconds later, a circular shape rose up towards them, quickly resolving itself into the form of the library tower which Rogue had seen before.

Will gestured, and a chair appeared next to Rogue. "You might want to sit down. This could take a little while." After she was seated, Will waked to the center of the tower and looked up. "Okay," he said, "what's the problem?"

A moment later, books started flying off the shelves – literally. They zoomed past Rogue and surrounded Will, nearly obscuring him from her view. The music of the Chorus, meanwhile, began to grow in both volume and clarity.

* * *

Holdrege, Nebraska

12:27 PM CDT

Richard Hirt watched the crush of people moving back towards their offices. Smiling, he tossed his coffee cup into the wastebasket.

_It's time._

He hopped up onto the table in front of him. "Excuse me, please?" he asked in a loud voice. "Could I have everyone's attention?"

* * *

"Any ideas yet?" Rogue asked.

"Not yet," Will told her from behind the whirlwind of books. "Sometimes it takes a while before I can get a clear idea of just what's going on."

"Why are you getting buried by books?"

"I'm not, really. I get a glimpse of a single page from lots of different books. Eventually, I can put it all together and figure out just what the Chorus is trying to tell me."

* * *

12:28 PM CDT

Holdrege, Nebraska

A small group of people stopped to look at the young man. Some stopped out of curiosity. Others out of boredom. A few stopped because he had a _really_ nice butt.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I wanted to let you know that you've all been selected for a very special honor. Something amazing is going to happen here today, and you're all going to be the first witnesses to it." As he spoke, he let his power loose, sending it flowing over the people like a liquid. Almost instantly, they started to become more interested in what he had to say.

"Today, you're going to see and experience something that you never thought possible. Something that will stay with you for the rest of your lives."

His psionic feelers started to sink deep into the minds of his listeners, linking them together on a subconscious level. The result was a small, but potent overmind, which he began to nudge towards the direction he wanted as he expanded it and extended his influence farther outward.

* * *

13:29 PM EDT

Salem Center

"Damn it!" Will growled as he stepped through the wall of books. "I'm not getting anywhere with this."

"Anything I can do to help?" Rogue asked sympathetically.

"No, but thanks for asking." He listened intently for a moment. "And what the _hell_ is that echo?"

"What echo?"

"You can't hear it?" She shook her head. "It's like I'm hearing a small echo of the Chorus off somewhere thataway." He gestured over his shoulder.

"What would cause that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm going to find out." He gestured, and the library tower fell away, leaving grey nothingness in its place. Rogue yelped a moment later, when the chair she was sitting on also vanished, and she landed on her butt. "Sorry," Will apologized.

"No problem. What now?"

"Now I check it out. Hang on." They accelerated to a speed which would have taken Rogue's breath away had they actually been breathing. After a few seconds, they approached an area where the mist seemed to be a bit off-color, gradually becoming darker than the surrounding territory. Will put his hand out and tried to touch the discolored area, but found that there was some sort of barrier which kept him from doing so. "That shouldn't be happening," he said to himself. "This isn't a natural formation."

"What is it?"

"Someone's forming a small group mind, closed off from the Chorus. See how flat and regular this area looks? It's being maintained artificially, held together by one mind."

"Why would someone do that?"

"I don't know… and I'm not sure how to stop it."

* * *

12:30 PM CDT

Holdrege, Nebraska

He always knew it would be like this.

They hung on his every word, waiting for him to continue. The feeling of power was what he had thought of during his time in treatment, what the pills kept from him when they made it hard to focus and cut his gift off from him.

"Today you're all going to be part of a very select group. You're going to be part of something that people will be talking about for years to come. Your names are going to be all over the news, around the world."

As he spoke, he gathered the psychic energy that they were producing as a group mind, letting it build and grow… energizing him further and preparing him for what he had to do.

* * *

"The energy seems to be building," Will said as he continued to examine the anomaly.

"Is it dangerous?"

"That depends on what it's going to be used for. This might just be an unusual group meditation of some kind, but I don't think so. It's too damn organized." He backed away from the discolored area and gestured for Rogue to follow him. As they drifted off, he continued to keep a close eye on the phenomenon.

"Are you going to do anything about it?" Rogue asked him.

"I'm still not sure if I should or not. I try not to interfere with what happens within the Chorus if I can help it. It might be better if I just…"

"Just what?" Rogue pressed. Then she noticed that his attention was focused on the anomaly, which was starting to pulse with energy. Before she could protest, he grabbed her and sped away from it as fast as he could.

* * *

"Yes, people, we are going to send a message today!" Richard Hirt said as he took the power and let it loose...

* * *

If Rogue had been seeing with her eyes, she would have gone blind.

The explosion of the anomaly was brighter than a dozen suns, and the blast was deafening. She could only watch as a shockwave traveled through the ether, approaching them at a frightening rate of speed. "Faster!" she urged Will.

Will poured on the speed, struggling to consciously direct them both from deep sleep into a waking state without hurting either one of them. He felt the waking world ahead of him, and drove them both towards it as quickly as he could...

They both awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed with panicked looks on their faces.

"What… _was_ that?" Rogue gasped.

Will had only one answer.

"Something horrible."

* * *

12:32 PM CDT

Holdrege, Nebraska

Richard Hirt walked carefully over the rubble of the café, looked at his handiwork, and saw that it was good.

"I want to thank all of you," he said aloud. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Bodies lay strewn like cordwood on the street and sidewalk. His listeners were now bleeding from their ears, noses, and eyes. The sudden nature of their deaths had caused their bowels to void themselves, causing a stink to permeate the square.

"I mean, you _have_ to have a few sacrifices if you want to get God's attention, don't you?"


	51. Chapter 51

Bobby was walking up to his room to pick up some CDs to listen to while he was on monitor duty. He had discovered some time ago that the various threats the X-Men faced became far less intimidating when they were destroying things to the tune of various "Weird Al" Yankovic and Spike Jones songs.

Just as he was about to open the door to his room, he heard movement just down the hall. As he turned towards the sound, he saw Will's door open. A moment later, Will stumbled out of his room, slamming against the opposite wall of the hallway so hard that Bobby winced.

Rogue rushed out of Will's room a heartbeat later, helping him to his feet. "Are you all right?" she asked him in a concerned voice.

Will shook his head to clear it. "War Room," he gasped. "Now."

Bobby tensed instantly. While he often joked about the amount of training that he underwent within the X-Men, he had developed the same combat reflexes and awareness as the rest of the team, and he could tell that something was very wrong.

Rogue pulled off her mask and ducked her head underneath Will's arm, supporting his weight and lifting him up as she hovered. "Call an alert, Bobby."

Bobby nodded, then rushed over to his computer, which he always kept in standby mode. A few keystrokes later, the alarm klaxon was blaring. He then followed Rogue and Will to the elevator. "What's happened?" he asked as they waited for it to ascend.

"I have to look at a map," Will said as he struggled to ground himself mentally. "I won't be able to tell you until then." They all stepped into the elevator a few seconds later.

Once they reached the underground complex, they went straight to the War Room, where Scott and Logan were waiting for them. "Who called the alert?" Scott asked.

"I did," Will replied curtly. "Call up the global map."

For a moment, it appeared that Scott was going to protest, but Will's determined expression changed his mind. He stepped over to the global display and activated it. The holographic globe instantly appeared in the air.

"Focus on North America," Will ordered. "Now the Midwest. Stop. Farther south. Stop. Zoom in. West. Stop. Zoom. Stop." He pointed at the center of the display. "What are the coordinates for that spot?"

Scott tapped at the controls for a few seconds. A moment later, a set of numbers indicating latitude and longitude were floating in the air. "Now what?"

Will thought for a moment. "It must have something to do with the location." He looked at Rogue. "Any ideas?"

She nodded. "Scott, look up the coordinates for the center of the continental U.S. Put them on the map."

"I'll be damned," Will muttered. The two markers were nearly on top of one another. "Good work," he told Rogue.

"I don't get it," Bobby admitted.

"If you wanted to affect an entire area, where would you start?"

"From the middle."

Will pointed at the map. "_That_ spot is the middle of the U.S. Whatever's happening there could affect the entire country… _if_ we don't get to it in time."

"Just what happened?" Scott asked, now all business.

"Somebody set off a psychic bomb," Will explained. "It was aimed at the collective consciousness, so I doubt that any standard telepaths are going to sense anything just yet."

Scott winced. He knew enough from his psychic rapport with Jean to get an idea of just what Will was describing, and the type of damage that it could do.

"Don't let Jean or Betsy know what's happened," Will requested. "I'd like them to look themselves so we can get some independent verification."

"Good idea," Scott agreed.

Once Jean and Betsy arrived in the War Room, they were quickly able to confirm with Cerebro that something felt 'wrong' about the area, although they weren't able to define it beyond that.

By this time, most of the team had arrived. "How much damage could this do?" Bishop asked Will.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think it's going to stay localized. It's probably going to have a cascade effect."

"It's going to spread," Scott confirmed grimly.

"And probably get stronger as it touches more minds."

Scott glanced at the globe. "The area's pretty isolated. That may give us some time. Let's buzz Val Cooper and see if she has anything for us." He gave Will an uncertain look. "I'm not second-guessing you. I'd just like to go in with a bit more information."

"So would I."

* * *

It usually took quite some time for Valerie to respond to a signal from the X-Men, since she had to set up a secure line from her end. This time, however, her reply was almost instantaneous_. "I was setting up the line while you were calling,"_ she explained.

Scott and Ororo both frowned. If Val was contacting them directly, rather than using the semi-legitimate method of using Xavier as an intermediary, then something was seriously wrong. "Will got one of his flashes," Scott explained. "What happened?"

Valerie let out a frustrated breath. _"I'll start at the beginning."_

"_Early this morning, somebody made a mistake in their paperwork, and a man named Richard Hart was released from a mental hospital in North Platte, Nebraska. Hart is a mutant… a high Beta-level psi. He's also a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic."_

Jean and Betsy cursed in unison. "What's the problem?" Bobby asked.

"Remember my sophomore year psychology term paper?" Jean replied.

"Can't say that I do," he admitted.

"It was called _The Effects of Organic Mental Illness on Psionic Abilities_. From what research I was able to gather, the structural differences in the nervous system of a schizophrenic act like a magnifier for psychic powers. It can enhance a Gamma Level power to Beta, or a Beta to Alpha Level."

"So this guy's going to be a mid to high-level Alpha, and mentally unstable to boot," Will said with a sigh. "And it started out as such a _nice_ day."

"_It gets worse,"_ Valerie continued. _"My people spoke with Hart's doctors. He's a religious hysteric, and he's convinced himself that he's going to have a personal encounter with God. He thinks that all he has to do is send the right signal."_

"Let me guess," Will said in a faint voice. "What I just heard was the signal."

Valerie nodded. _"What Hart does is set up a psi-link, connecting several minds into a network. Then he uses that network to combine the individual minds into one basic signal."_

Henry frowned. "That sounds very similar to a token ring LAN."

"_That's not too surprising. Before his mental condition deteriorated, he was one hell of a computer programmer. His old bosses and his psychologists swear that the man can think in code."_

Will thought for a moment. "That makes sense, actually. The feeling I got was one of an almost sterile order. If he's used to thinking in programming terms, then his psychic constructs would probably be designed in a similar way."

"That might help," Jean decided. "It gives us something to work with, at least." She looked at Scott and Ororo. "We should get moving. The longer we wait, the more extensive the damage becomes."

Scott nodded. "Henry, Jean, Will, Betsy, Rogue, Bobby, and me. Ororo, you might want to keep the rest of the team on standby. This is a totally unknown situation, and we may wind up needing backup."

"A suggestion, Scott," Henry interjected. "Give Kitty a call and see if she can join us. Her analytical skills and programming experience could give us some insight into possible strategies to counter the effect."

"Good thinking. Ororo, could you contact Kitty while we get into uniform?"

Ororo nodded. "Hopefully, she can be ready for pickup by the time the Blackbird is prepped."

* * *

Will changed into his uniform, then loaded his weapons and hurried back to the War Room. "Is Ms. Pryde ready?" he asked Ororo.

"She's putting on the last of her uniform. She asked if you could meet her in the lounge of the complex."

He nodded. "I think I remember where that is. I'll be right back." He vanished with a flash of light. About three minutes later, he reappeared, with Kitty beside him. Oddly, he was blushing.

Kitty was grinning impishly. "Don't worry about it," she was telling Will.

"What's wrong?" Ororo asked.

"I knew I was running a little late," Kitty explained, "so I grabbed my uniform and got changed on the way from my room to the lounge. I wasn't _quite_ finished putting my top on when Will showed up."

"Oops," Ororo said, joining in the grin. "Any reaction, Will?"

"No comment. Let's get going."

The team members boarded the monorail and sped off towards the hanger. Scott glanced back at Kitty as they started to slow down. "Feel like taking the copilot seat?"

Kitty grinned. "Why not? _Someone_ has to compensate for your old bones."

"Funny."

As they left the monorail, Will examined Kitty's uniform, a variation on the standard gold-and-blue X-Men design. "Are you armed?"

She shook her head. "We try to avoid it in Excalibur if we can."

"I'll be right back." He vanished, returning a moment later with a sheathed _ninja-to_ in his hands. "Just in case," he said as he handed it to her.

Kitty looked at him dubiously for a moment, then shrugged and strapped the scabbard across her back. "Anything else?" she asked the group.

"That should do it," Scott said. "Everybody hop in. Do you want to teleport us, Will?"

"To be honest, Cyclops, I think I could use the flight time to get a better feel of what's happening."

Scott hesitated a moment, then nodded. "All right. We're going to handle this one very carefully, people. Will is probably going to be handling the psychic end of things, so we're going to be focusing on evacuating civilians and running both backup and damage control. Clear?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Hank, are the extra medical supplies loaded?"

"Gurneys, triage kits, oxygen, dressings, and surgical equipment. We'll barely have the room to move."

"Good. Strap in, people."

* * *

Will was absolutely silent as the Blackbird sped towards Nebraska. He stared into space with an intent look on his face, and occasionally winced at something that only he could see. Rogue leaned over in her seat towards Jean as she watched him. "Is he okay?"

"I'm not sure. He's trying to do two things at once – shield and look ahead of us – and I think it's a bit of a strain."

"I know he's not centered. He's been off-balance since we woke up. I think that whatever's happened really shook him up." She grimaced. "I was pretty much an _observer_, and I was freaked out."

"You might want to stay close to somebody else once we get there," Logan said from the seat in front of her. "We don't want him bein' so concerned about you that he doesn't look out for himself."

"Good idea," she agreed. "We'll want to keep him in sight. I'm not about to have a repeat of what happened in Syria."

"Why don't you two act as his backup?" Jean suggested. "The three of you should be able to handle things long enough for us to get the civilians out of the area."

Logan and Rogue looked at one another, then nodded. "If there _is_ a fight, we'll try to draw it away from the area," Rogue agreed.

"Good. Betsy and I are probably going to have our hands full trying to do triage." She tapped at her communicator. "Hank? What's our E.T.A.?"

"_About fifteen minutes. When we arrive, Kitty and I will set up the triage area."_

"All right. Will, Logan and Rogue will be recon."

"_The rest of us will be transporting the wounded,"_ Scott finished.

"We gonna have any problems with the Feds?" Logan asked.

"_No. Val's going to keep them away from the area until we give her an all clear. She's getting a Defense Department satellite positioned so she can keep tabs on things."_

Four minutes later, they got a signal from Val that the satellite was in place. A few seconds later, a high-altitude map of the town started to appear on the screen. "Most of the damage appears to be in the northeast corner of the city," Henry observed.

"Can you superimpose a U.S. Army map, Hank?" Kitty requested. "I want to find a good spot to touch down."

Scott and Kitty agreed that a park in the southwest part of the town provided the best landing site. "We're going to have to haul the injured quite a ways," Betsy commented.

"Once we get them on stretchers, I shouldn't have any problem carrying them," Jean told her.

"We're approaching the city," Scott announced. "Activating cloak and sonic bafflers." A few seconds later, the sound of the engines died down to a low rumble that could be seen more than heard. "Altitude at one hundred meters… fifty… twenty-five… ten… five… touchdown." The Blackbird lurched just a bit as it landed.

"Rogue, Wolverine, Archetype," Scott said as they all unbuckled, "take it slow and easy. Remember, our priority is to evac the civilians. Beast, Shadowcat, get the triage center up as fast as you can. Everybody else stay close together and keep an eye out for wounded. We'll be sweeping one block at a time. Any questions? No? Then recon team move out. Stay in contact."

Archetype, who had been silent throughout the trip, instantly stood up from his seat, walked over to the side hatch of the Blackbird and opened it. As the stairs lowered, he placed his sword inside his coat. Rogue and Wolverine followed him, stepping off the plane.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Archetype made for the nearest structure, the dugout of a nearby baseball diamond. Once he reached it, he crouched down. He glanced back at Wolverine and Rogue, who were about five maters away and covering his left and right flanks. "Would you say that the Blackbird is at least thirty meters away?"

"At least," Logan confirmed.

He nodded. "Give me a second." Closing his eyes, he started to lower his shields. A moment later, he gasped in pain. Rogue took a step towards him, but he signaled for her to stay back as his eyes started glowing.

"_I'm all right,"_ he said in a tight voice. _"That echo just became much louder. It almost drowns out the Chorus itself."_ He stood up. _"I can manage. Let's go."_

They stayed out of sight, keeping behind buildings and parked cars. They soon moved out of the residential areas and approached the business district. As they made their way along, they would occasionally come across the body of a civilian. Rogue made a move towards one of them, but Logan and Archetype each grabbed one of her arms. "Death scent," Logan informed her.

"_No aura," _Archetype added.

She looked at the body grimly. "How long?"

"_Less than an hour,"_ He frowned. _"What the hell?"_

"What?" Logan asked.

Archetype stared intently at the body for several seconds. _"I'm still seeing traces of his astral form… his spirit. But if he's been dead this long, then it should have already started to rejoin the Chorus."_

"So he's a ghost now?"

"_I don't know. Stay here."_ He walked over to the body, removed a glove, and put one finger to its neck. _"A very faint pulse. He's alive."_

Rogue frowned, puzzled. "Then where's his… I don't know, his soul?"

Archetype started to answer, but his eyes widened, and Rogue could actually see his mind fit pieces of a puzzle into place.

"_You bastard…"_ he whispered.

A moment later, he broke into a run, heading for the center of the business district.

"_YOU BASTARD!"_

Logan and Rogue, startled by his reaction, startled by his reaction, started after him, but they were no match for him on foot. Rogue finally grabbed Logan and started flying.

"What do you think pissed him off so fast?" Logan asked.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I just hope he stays calm."

A moment later, they both stopped short.

"So much for hope."

* * *

Hart stood, transcendent, awaiting a response to his call.

"_What in the hell are you **doing!**?"_

Not quite what he was expecting.

He opened his eyes and looked down on the newcomer. "I'm waiting for an answer."

A pair of glowing eyes narrowed. _"Let. Them. Go. You aren't going to find your answer here."_

"Of course I am!" he said brightly. "His Word will be revealed unto me, and my followers and I will be exalted in Paradise!"

"_Followers?"_ Archetype whispered. _"You call **these** followers?"_

The townspeople, young and old, lay in a circle on the ground surrounding Hart. Most were either writhing and moaning in the throes of some primal ecstasy, or were simply lying on the ground drooling, completely lost in the sensory overload. Several had already stiffened in death, their nervous systems apparently destroyed from shock.

"They are in the Rapture!" Hart proclaimed. "They know of the glory that is to come!"

"_They're caught up in a psi-link that **you** created. You've linked their pleasure centers and cut them off from the Chorus. If they die, they'll be unable to go anywhere!"_

As Archetype finished speaking, Rogue and Logan came into view. Hart noticed them, then smiled. "You have brought more disciples for me!" He started to focus his energies on the pair.

_"ENOUGH!"_

In an eyeblink, Archetype had crossed the distance between himself and Hart, dealing him a solid blow to the jaw that sent him sprawling.

Before Hart could regain his bearings, Archetype turned to the other two X-Men. _"Grab as many as you can, get to the Blackbird, and get the **hell out of here**!"_

"What about you?" Logan asked.

_"I'll keep him occupied. **Go**!"_

Logan saw the look on his face, and immediately decided that any arguments would be futile. Rogue took a heartbeat longer, but then flew over to a nearby pickup truck, picked it up, and brought it over to where the townspeople were. She and Logan quickly started transferring the wounded to the bed of their ersatz transport.

As the pair fought, Logan and Rogue finished loading the wounded. Logan jumped into the cab of the truck, and Rogue flew underneath it. A moment later, the truck rose up from the ground as Rogue supported it, flying towards the Blackbird.

Logan tapped at his communicator. "Wolverine to Cyclops. We're on our way back with twenty to thirty wounded. Be ready to lift off as soon as they're aboard."

The communicator replied with a burst of static, through which Scott's voice could barely be heard. _"Con-d…lif- -our –inutes…"_

"You hear that?" Logan yelled out the side window of the truck.

"Got it," Rogue yelled back. "After we pick up that guy we passed, we should be there in two."

Rogue was true to her word, and the Blackbird came into sight within ninety seconds. Before Rogue even touched the ground, Jean was lifting the wounded from he truck and floating them into the cabin of the Blackbird. "I'm running out of room, guys."

"We'll have to lose some of the supplies," Scott decided. "Shadowcat, Wolverine, start tossing stuff out." A few seconds later, boxes and cots started flying out the open door.

"Hurry it up, guys," Rogue said nervously. "Will was throwing off some serious power. We want to be away from here before the plane's systems get fried."

By using the storage closet's shelves as supports for the stretchers, they were able to fit another seven wounded into the Blackbird. "We need to fit two more," Henry said.

"I'll fly," Rogue volunteered, "and Will's still out there. That gives you your two seats."

Henry nodded. "All right. Jean, Logan, strap them both in tight, and use the head restraints. If we make a sudden turn, we could snap their necks."

Scott and Kitty rushed back to their seats and prepped the engines for a cold start. Logan and Jean, meanwhile, were buckling the last two wounded in, using the six-point buckle which was kept for emergencies. Jean pulled the headrest off each seat, turning it around so that the concave surface faced forward, then slid them back into their settings. She pulled on a tab on one side, drawing out the Velcro strap stored within the headrest, then ran it through the buckle on the other side. She tightened the strap across the forehead of the unconscious man, drawing his head back and immobilizing his neck and shoulders. Seconds later, the remaining casualty was belted into place. Betsy and Henry were reduced to pulling cargo webbing over the wounded on the floor and securing it taut. "That's the best we can do," Henry told Scott.

"Close the hatch behind me," Rogue told Henry. By the time the hatch finished closing, both she and the Blackbird were in the air.

**_Rogue,_** Jean's voice echoed in her head, **_we just talked to Val. We're going to rendezvous with a National Guard medical unit. ETA about five minutes. They're under orders to assist us, but they're a bit jumpy, so let's avoid spooking them. Stay close to us._**

_What about Will?_

**_We'll head back as soon as we unload the civilians._**

* * *

****

Archetype, meanwhile, was continuing to pummel Hart, who was taking surprisingly little damage. _He must have some kind of TK shield,_ Archetype thought to himself. _Either that, or his adrenaline levels are off the scale._

"You can't take my disciples away from me!" Hart shouted. "They are mine!"

Archetype felt a rising anger within himself, and channeled it into a series of punches and kicks that kept the other psi off-balance and unable to mount an effective attack. As he spoke, he punctuated his words with more blows.

_"I am so **sick**… and **tired**… of people like you… deciding that **your** way of viewing… a two thousand year-old book… gives you the right to play with other people's lives!_

_"I am **sick**… of your song-and-dance… 'Oh, the world **has** to end now, and prove that I'm important! History couldn't **possibly** go on without me!' The misery you've caused… the lives you've claimed… just so **you** can feel superior to everyone else!"_

_I can't kill him,_ he thought to himself. _I don't know what the effect will be on the people he's caught up in his link. My best bet is to knock him out._ He started to get into position for a nerve pinch.

Hart, however took a step back. "I'm losing them!" he moaned, staring into space. "They're being led off the path to the Kingdom!" He shot Archetype a glare full of hate. "He isn't going to come! And it's ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Before Archetype could react, Hart leapt forward and wrapped his hands around his throat. His madness gave him a phenomenal amount of strength, and Archetype was quickly struggling to breathe.

"Get thee from me, you Satan!" Hart screamed. "Feel the wrath of a vengeful God!"

A moment later, Archetype's mind was hit with the full force of over two hundred minds at once, as Hart took the power of the prisoners of his link, channeling them into one tremendous blow.

* * *

Jean and Betsy both howled in pain as the psychic feedback - a fraction of what Archetype was experiencing - ripped through their minds. Scott was affected through his link with Jean, and Kitty had to wrest control of the Blackbird from him. "I'm taking us down _now_!" she shouted above the screams.

* * *

"Die! _Die_, you demon!" Hart crowed as he felt the power, _his_ power, tearing apart the mind of his enemy. He watched as Archetype's nose and ears bled as his brain started to hemorrhage.

Hart stepped up his attack, aiming for various parts of Archetype's nervous system, and soon he saw skin tear open as various blood vessels burst. He prepared for his final blow, one which would completely wipe away the mind of the man who lay dying before him.

A heartbeat later, he felt… something.

Something that was massive.

Something that was far beyond his ken.

The head of his enemy, which had been hanging limply seconds ago, lifted up again. His face was impassive, and utterly beyond any pain or suffering that anyone could hope to inflict. His eyes almost blinded him with their radiance. He did not speak, but Hart suddenly heard a _voice_ within his head.

A _voice_ which spoke four words:

_**THIS CANNOT BE PERMITTED**_.

What happened next can be described in one word.

_Boom._

_

* * *

_

_End of Movement Two_

END OF MOVEMENT TWO


	52. Intermission Two

"Begin recording. Date stamp, Top Secret clearance. Copies to be forwarded to POTUS, SECDEF, and the Joint Chiefs. Present are myself, Henry Gyrich, Orville Sanderson, George Mathers, General Hayworth, Adrian Sammish, Avengers liaison Raymond Sikorsky, Martin Farrow, and Wesley Warner. Representing the Grey Division of SUPERINTare Robin Ferguson and Ruzena Carolea.

"This meeting of the Commission On Superhuman Activities is called to order. The subject for discussion is Mister Will Riley, who has recently been operating under the alias of Archetype. Mister Riley is currently associated with the superhuman group known as the X-Men."

"That was at your suggestion, wasn't it, Val?"

"Yes, Mister Sanderson. Riley made it clear to me at our initial contact that he had no interest in serving any government agency. The X-Men have proven to be one of the most stable of the independent superhuman groups, and we can contact them quickly, should the need arise, through X-Factor.

"Riley could best be described as a cross between a telepath, an omnipath, and a mage. He claims to be able to perceive the collective consciousness through a phenomenon which he calls 'The Chorus'. Study of this 'Chorus' has enabled him to develop teleportational abilities, martial arts skills, and an intuitive awareness of the dynamics of magical forces. At higher levels, this combination of traits can cause disruptions in advanced technology."

"You seem to have skipped over a major aspect of his powers, Val."

"I was just about to touch on that, Mister Farrow. Riley also appears to be effectively immortal, capable of recovering from any degree of injury or trauma."

"Is he an External?"

"No, nor is he a mutant. His powers appear to be wholly magical in nature."

"What are his political leanings?"

"All over the map. He's a strong supporter of both the military and gun rights, but opposes the draft, and is in favor of decriminalization of recreational drugs. He has extensive business interests in the technology sector, but has spent millions on environmental restoration of his land holdings. He's an intensely private man, and dislikes having attention drawn to himself.

"Ms. Carolea will give us a review of Mister Riley's magical background."

"Thank you, Doctor Cooper. After Riley acquired a net worth of about ten million U.S. dollars through investments, he began traveling to various locations which have historical and mystical significance. He would spend a few days at each spot, then move on. We believe that he underwent experiences at these places which enabled him to access the mystical energies associated with them. This theory is supported by the fact that most of the dwellings that he owns are located on ley lines or close to other centers of mystical power."

"What level of psi is he?"

"I can't give you an exact answer on that, Mister Gyrich. Riley doesn't channel energy the same way a mutant psi does, so measurement is a bit of a problem. Depending on how much power he's channeling at any given time, I'd rank him at anywhere from high Beta to mid-Alpha class, with the potential of eventually becoming an Omega class psi. It's the fact that he combines psionics with magic that makes him so powerful."

"Let's move on to more recent events. Mister Ferguson?"

"Yes, Dr. Cooper. After several minor encounters with various opponents, Riley and four other X-Men – Wolverine, Bishop, Iceman, and Rogue – prevented an attack of San Francisco by two members of the Horsemen of Apocalypse. According to witnesses, it was revealed that Apocalypse was aware of Riley's existence, and was 'waiting' for him."

"Wait a minute. How could Apocalypse have known about him? From what I've read, most of his power is based on, or augmented by, technology."

"True, General Hayworth, but that doesn't mean that he can't use magic. It may also be that his knowledge of Riley pre-dates his current state. In any case, one Riley became aware of Apocalypse's interest in him, he employed a series of methods which increased the extent and range of his abilities.

"Unfortunately, that turned out to be counterproductive. Once events were set into motion, the pieces fell into place very quickly. Adjusting to increases in magical power takes time… a commodity Riley was very short on. By the time his confrontation with Apocalypse took place, he was too caught up in maintaining control to be able to mount an effective defense. Apocalypse defeated him easily."

"What about the other X-Men?"

"They were captured. Given Apocalypse's usual _modus operandi_, I think it's safe to guess that they were to be executed.

"About ten hours later, however, Riley reappeared, just as powerful as before, but now both fully healed, and seemingly in complete control of his powers. About an hour before this, our sensitives detected a massive surge of magical energies on the western coast of Ireland, where Riley owns a house. I think that we're safe in concluding that it was those energies that restored him. He teleported to Apocalypse's location, eliminating most of the security that was stationed there and disrupting the technology which had been installed in the complex."

"What about Apocalypse himself?"

"My sources are a bit sketchy on that. Riley hit him with a combination of dimensional manipulation and devastating psionic attacks. The combination was enough to temporarily take Apocalypse down. During their battle, the X-Men escaped from the complex. From what we can tell, Riley then opened up a dimensional portal large enough to swallow the plateau in which Apocalypse's complex was housed."

"… Is he normally that powerful?"

"No. It appears that what occurred was that Riley was temporarily 'supercharged', so to speak. This is indicated by the fact that he took several weeks to recover from the experience, and has not displayed a comparable degree of power since that time."

"What does the magical community think about him?"

"To be quite frank, they're terrified of him. He can do intuitively what takes most mages years of study to accomplish. He's receiving training from Stephen Strange, which should tell you something about his potential. The last magician who tried attacking him is now a babbling idiot. Say the words 'Riley' of 'magic' within earshot of him, and he needs to be sedated."

"Which brings us to the million-dollar question: is Riley a threat to national security?"

"My judgement says no, Mister Gyrich. Riley has shown no interest in politics. The few causes which he supports financially are concerned with environmental and historical preservation. He has a quiet, withdrawn personality… not the type who would look to make waves. His priority seems to be protecting those whom he views as his 'family'… namely, the X-Men and their associated groups."

"That in itself should be something to make us reconsider our official stance on mutants, Mister Gyrich."

"I don't quite get your meaning, Ms. Carolea."

"Our official policy on mutants has, from the beginning, been one of confrontation… us versus them. That sort of thinking creates a division between mutants and baseline humans… a division tailor-made for Apocalypse's needs. We're doing his work _for_ him, setting up a climate where he just has to wait for the dust to settle, then stomp on whoever's left.

"Now someone is here who's offering an alternative… someone who's fighting for continuity, for the preservation of humanity… all humanity, which tells you just what the 'Mutant Question' means in the larger scheme of things. He's been given the power of the human mind and spirit… diverse cultures and creeds working as one… and our most powerful precogs say that it's _still_ even money on how this thing's going to turn out.

"We shouldn't be thinking about how to _stop_ him, Mister Gyrich. We should be looking into how we can _help_ him… for all our sakes."

"Thank you, Ms. Carolea, gentlemen. I believe that I have sufficient information to brief the administration at this time. You will be informed once a decision is reached.

"Dismissed. End recording."


	53. Chapter 53

_Dear Momma,_

_I don't know how often you get a chance to check your mail drops, but I really need to get this down now. It gives me something to think about so I can keep myself together._

_I'm guessing that Val told you something about what happened, but I doubt that you got the full story. She can give you some info about why we were there, so I'll start with what happened once we landed._

_Will, Logan, and I went on ahead while the rest of the team set up a triage area and started evacuating the wounded. Will was barely holding himself together. Something about the way the psi-wave was structured had messed with his powers and made them harder to control._

_When we found the guy, he was ranting on and on about how he was triggering the Rapture. I'm not as familiar with eschatological theology as I used to be (and yes, I learned the word from Beast), but I think that he wanted to be the leader of an army of the 'saved' so that he could just waltz into Heaven. The people in Holdredge were going to be the start of that 'army'._

_I don't know if I've told you before, but Will has some serious issues with organized religion. He thinks that most Western faiths are coercive, since they say that the only alternative to their rules is damnation. So when Will saw what those poor people had been put through (some of the one who were closest to the center of the event, or who were older, died instantly), he lost it. He jumped in and started pounding on the guy so Logan and I could evac the wounded. We loaded them onto the Blackbird and got the hell out of there._

_When we were about halfway towards the troops, something happened. I don't know exactly what it was, but it fried every system on the Blackbird, and it was a dead weight from that point on._

_Not only did we have the wounded to deal with, but it took only a second to figure out that the 'Bird was going to land right on top of the National Guardsmen who were coming to assist us._

_All I can say is that we're very lucky that I was outside the 'Bird. I was able to get under it and slow it down enough to level out our descent. **I** made one hell of a long hole in the ground, but she landed light enough that the civilians weren't bumped around too much._

_Can Val get a message to those Guardsmen? Please tell them that if I could, I'd give each and every one of them a hug and kiss. They were absolutely **superb**. By the time I got out from underneath the 'Bird, they were already loading the wounded onto the transports they had brought. They wouldn't even let the team leave until they had checked us out to make sure that none of us was hurt! If I had been thanked one more time, I think my blush would have become permanent._

I'm sure that Forge is working on a replacement Blackbird by now. Tell him that I'm sorry, but I couldn't keep it from being damaged as we landed.

_He probably would have had to replace all of the electronics anyway, since Val said that the disruption pulse was able to fry electronic systems up to eleven miles away. The Humvees and trucks the Guardsmen came in were all fried, too… they wound up hotwiring all of them._

_We talked to the Guardsmen afterwards about what they had seen, since our backs were to it as it happened. They described a ripple that appeared in the air and washed over all of us, shorting out our systems as it passed by. It's a side effect of Will's powers, but we hadn't seen it that strong before._

_Jean and Betsy were unconscious for about five minutes, but once they were up, they were able to check on the condition of the civilians. Ororo ordered Hank and Kitty to help the medics, and the rest of us hurried back to see what had happened to Will._

_We ran like hell to where we had left him. The entire way, I kept hoping that we'd find him coming back to meet us._

_We weren't that lucky. As we approached the area, the only thing that we could see was a shallow crater, about three meters wide. Will was lying in the center of it._

_Sorry. I had to put this down for a while so I could pull myself together._

_Most of the front of Will's uniform had been scorched. His arms, from his elbows to his fingertips, had been burned to the bone, and he had other burn marks all over him. (Hank told me later that they had been open wounds, but that the energy from the pulse must have cauterized them)._

_His face was completely blank, and his eyes were just staring into space. He had gone absolutely catatonic. His arms were stretched out in front of him… I had to force them down before I could pick him up._

_We didn't see any sign of the other guy. Val told us later that they found pieces of him up to half a kilometer away. The blast had ripped him to shreds._

_No, I'm not going to shed any tears for him._

_Once we got back to the rest of the team, Kitty reminded us why she's the Goddess of Computing. She snagged a cellular off a Guardsman, patched it in to her laptop, and sent a signal to Muir Isle that bounced off so many satellites that it was virtually untraceable. Four minutes later, Amanda Sefton showed up (in a masked costume), and teleported us home. Jean and Betsy stayed behind to assist with the evacuation of the civilians. Please tell Val thank you for arranging their flight home._

_Things here have stayed pretty much the same since we got back. Kitty is staying until she and Forge can get the operating system for the new Blackbird up and running. Jean and Betsy have been sleeping a lot._

_And Will… hasn't changed. It's been nearly two weeks, and he's still completely unresponsive. His arms are healing, but slowly, not much faster than an ordinary person's would. All that we've been able to do for him is change the dressings on his arms and give him a glucose drip._

_The Professor, Jean, and Betsy have been keeping a telepathic 'eye' on him, trading off every couple of hours. They think, from what they can sense through all the static, that his mind is slowly piecing itself back together, but since Will's thought patterns have **always** been chaotic, they say that they can't be sure. _

_Both Hank and the Professor agreed that having some mental stimulation might help bring him around, so I've been planting him in a wheelchair and taking him outside. I play the radio, read the newspaper to him, and take care of his physiotherapy so his muscles don't atrophy. I even made Hank set up a bed next to Will's. I'm hoping that since Will and I have so many shared dreams together, he'll sense me somehow, and find a way back to us._

_I'm looking at him right now. His eyes seem so… lost. He's in there somewhere, Momma, trying to claw his way back to us. I **know** it. We just have to show him the way._

_Logan is here to help me change Will's clothes and put him to bed, so I have to cut this short. Wish both Will and me luck._

_Love, _

'_R.'_

* * *

Jean stepped quietly into the infirmary, trying not to disturb Henry as he studied a pile of EEG sheets. She went to the back of the room, where a single, dim light illuminated a bed.

"Rogue," she said in a soft voice, "I brought you some dinner."

Rogue glanced up from her chair next to the bed. "Thanks, Jean," she replied wearily. "What was it tonight?"

"Lasagna. Here you go."

Rogue placed the tray on a small table next to her chair, then removed the Aran cardigan that she wore. "I don't want to get this dirty," she explained.

Jean nodded, then wheeled another chair over and sat down beside Rogue. "Any change?"

Rogue sighed, then shook her head. "No," she said as she started eating. "Hank's been driving himself crazy trying to find an organic cause."

"I know. He didn't even notice me as I came in." Her head turned towards the sweater. "Do you want me to turn the heat up a bit?"

"No. The cold helps me stay awake. Besides, wearing it makes me feel a little better."

"Why?"

The younger woman was silent for a moment. "The first time I wore it, I was with him. I felt warm… protected… safe… and I knew it was because of him." She reached out, touching a gloved hand to Will's cheek. "It's when I started to fall in love with him."

Jean gently touched Rogue's shoulder. "I could take over for you for a little while, if you want. You could go wash up, change your clothes?"

Rogue nodded. "That's a good idea," she said as she stood up. "I don't want him to see me looking like Hell when he wakes up…" her voice broke near the end, and she suddenly started sobbing. "But what do I do if he _doesn't_ wake up?"

Jean, who had had the foresight to prepare for such a breakdown, slipped on a pair of her uniform gloves and hugged Rogue tightly. She sent a mental signal to Henry, who came in a moment later.

"Hank, could you keep an eye on Will for a few minutes? I'm going to help her freshen up a bit."

"Of course," Henry said in a gentle voice. He waited until the two women left, then sat down next to Will.

"I truly hope you come out of this soon," he said. "If you don't recover, I honestly believe that it will destroy her. She has become so much stronger since you entered her life. Please do not take that away from her."

In an ideal world, Will would have awoken at that moment, validating Henry's hopes and lifting Rogue out of her despair.

This, however, was _not_ an ideal world, and silence hung over the room, mocking them all.

* * *

The next day proved to be fairly warm, and Kitty announced to Forge that they were both going to take the day off. Forge had been so brain-fried the previous day that he had found himself patching his own leg into the Blackbird's ECM display, so he was inclined to agree with her.

Scott decided that an afternoon off would be good for everybody, so he organized a barbecue lunch by the pool. Logan handled the grill, while Bobby and Ororo took care of the cold dishes. This allowed Jean and Betsy, who were somewhat frazzled from what they had come to call 'Will watch', to relax in lounge chairs as Scott and Warren administered much-needed backrubs.

Xavier, who was wearing a khaki shirt and straw hat for the informal occasion, guided his chair over to a table near the corner of the pool, where Rogue sat with Will. Rogue was dressed in a neon green neoprene wetsuit, while Will wore an outfit similar to his own. "Why don't you go swimming?" he suggested to Rogue. "I can take over for a while."

"You don't mind?" she asked uncertainly.

"Not at all. Besides, you could use a break."

She thought about it for a few moments. "All right," she decided, "but let me know if there's any change."

"I promise."

Rogue stood up and glanced over to the pool, where Bishop was lying in a floating lounge chair. "Heads up, Bish!" she yelled, leaping into the air.

Bishop, who was taking a rare moment to relax and take a quick nap, was awakened from his doze. "Whu?"

_Splash!_

Bishop sputtered as he spit the water out of his mouth, while ignoring the laughter of his teammates.

Logan chuckled and turned his attention back to the grill. "You want burgers or dogs, Chuck?"

"One cheeseburger, please."

"Comin' right up," Logan said as he placed a patty on the grill. He flipped another one over, causing some grease to fall on the coals. A moment later, a large flame sprouted up, dimming quickly. Logan stepped back a moment, then flipped another burger.

Xavier's head snapped to his side, and Jean and Betsy shot out of their lounge chairs, standing up. Warren was not as disturbed by this as much as the fact that Betsy's bikini top had been untied, and was now lying on the ground. "Um, Betsy…"

"Look, Warren."

"I'd love to look at you, but…"

"Not me. _Look_."

Warren followed her eyes (although _his_ eyes _did_ take a brief detour).

Will, who had been slumped in the wheelchair, was now sitting ramrod straight. His eyes stared in Logan's direction.

Bishop looked for Rogue, and found that she was underneath the water, swimming a lap. He rolled off the float and sank into the water, gaining her attention, then pointed up. Rogue nodded, then flew straight up, breaking the surface of the water. She looked around wildly, then landed directly in front of Will.

"Will? Will, can you hear me?" she whispered, staring desperately into his eyes.

Will continued looking forward for a moment, then slowly lowered his head.

Rogue looked at Xavier. "What triggered it?" she demanded. "What brought him back?"

"I don't know," Xavier confessed. "I really don't, Rogue. He just started looking at Logan."

Logan looked at where he had been standing. "No, not at _me_. At the _fire_."

Scott made some quick decisions. "Logan, go light a fire in the parlor. Warren, toss some lighter fluid on the grill, and keep doing it until Logan's ready. Rogue, wheel him closer to the grill. Everybody else, keep out of his line of sight."

The X-Men scrambled to comply. Scott glanced over to Xavier and Jean. "What are you sensing from him?"

"Recognition," Xavier said. "A need for companionship."

"A sense that… it's safe near here," Jean added.

"Warmth," Betsy agreed. "Comfort."

"Keep at it," Scott ordered. "And Betsy, put your top on."

"How do we keep a flame in front of him while we wheel him in?" Rogue asked.

"I'll take care of that," Bishop said. He ran over to the tool shed and picked up a piece of scrap wood that Ororo had used as a tomato stake. Moving around the others to get to the grill, he opened the spare can of lighter fluid and applied it liberally to one and of the stake.

"Fire's lit!" Logan yelled from inside the mansion.

Bishop nodded then thrust the end of the stake into the glowing coals, where it instantly caught fire. He held the makeshift torch in front of Will, who followed it with his eyes.

"Let me take it," Jean advised Bishop. "If you fall, you could burn yourself."

Bishop nodded, letting go of the torch as Jean took hold of it with her mind. Jean started moving towards the patio door, carrying the torch alongside her. Rogue followed, pushing Will in front of her. The others trailed behind.

They steadily made their way to the parlor, where Logan was adding wood to what was rapidly becoming a roaring fire. He moved aside so that Jean could place the torch inside and add it to the blaze. Rogue wheeled Will to a spot in front of the fire.

"Bish, you and Wings bring in more wood," Logan ordered. "This won't last long."

"Jean, Elizabeth, you and I will continue our four-hour shifts," Xavier said. "I want two or three people near him at all times."

"What do we do now?" Bobby asked.

"We wait."

* * *

By three that evening, the watch had fallen to Jean, Kitty, and Logan. Kitty and Jean were each reading a book, while Logan had pulled out a small knife, and was busy carving piece of the firewood. "What are you making?" Kitty asked him as she looked at him over her glasses.

"A little model of the Blackbird. I'll send it to Jubilee. Whatcha readin'?"

"_A History of Space and Time_."

"Some nice, Light readin', huh?"

"Behave, children," Jean said with a smile, "or I'll have Scott give you a lecture."

"Yes, Mom," Logan muttered.

Kitty laughed. "I've been away too long. I've kinda missed this."

"You're welcome back anytime, punkin'."

"I couldn't ask Pete to leave London," Kitty confessed. "Besides, there's just too much time and distance between the two teams. Excalibur is my home now."

"Yeah, I know. I had to ask, though." He stood up and walked over to the fireplace, tossing another log onto the flames.

The fire grew in intensity as the log shifted the coals, brightening the room for a few moments. Logan turned back to Kitty, then stopped short.

"What's wrong?" Jean asked him.

"Look behind you," he said slowly.

Kitty and Jean turned around, their eyes moving up towards the ceiling, where shadows danced in the firelight.

Shadows which were moving.

The three watched, mesmerized, as a shade lumbered across the room, carrying a club in one hand. The shape was clear and distinct, as if it were backlit against a movie screen. It stalked some unseen prey, then beat it with its club, howling in triumph as it did so. A few moments later, it was joined by other silhouettes, gesturing and dancing in a circle.

"What is this?" Jean whispered.

"It's the dawn of Man," Kitty whispered back. "The beginning of human history."

"Jeannie," Logan said, "get Chuck and Hank. They'll kill us if they miss this."

A few minutes later, almost all of the X-Men were in the parlor, staring at the shadows that danced across the wall, shifting to another image every few seconds.

"Egypt," Henry whispered as one scene showed groups of figures pulling a massive block across the wall.

Soon, the 'scene' changed again, showing a bull running, then being leapt over by dancing figures. "Crete," Betsy said.

The shadows continued to shift and reform into new images, showing portrayals of cultures that Xavier and Henry identified as Babylonian, Assyrian, Phoenician, and Hittite. "What time periods are we seeing, Professor?" Bobby asked in a whisper.

Twenty-one Hundred to Eighteen Hundred BCE, I think," Xavier replied, Wincing with the others as a particularly gruesome human sacrifice took place. "And I think we just shifted to India. That was Kali who just flashed by."

"And there's Shiva," Logan added.

"Chinese now," Henry pointed out as a dragon writhed across the walls. "The images are bouncing all over the place."

"That doesn't surprise me, Hank" Rogue said, speaking for the first time that night. "If he was just getting _one_ view of history, then he wouldn't be balanced. He's getting a little bit of _everything_, so he knows where to start if he wants to learn more."

"Like the index to a history book," Kitty whispered. "Are we seeing everything _he_ is?"

"I doubt it," Jean decided. "This is probably just glimpses. He's getting a lot more." She concentrated a moment, then blinked. "I can't even _begin_ to keep up with how fast his mind's working right now."

"I wouldn't try, Jean," Xavier advised. "If this is his mind's way of repairing itself, then it's a completely subjective process. It wouldn't make much sense to an observer."

"How long do you think this will take?"

"Hard to say. If we keep observing, we should get an idea."

* * *

By the time the sun began to rise, they were fairly certain that they had witnessed an abbreviated history of mankind that had extended to the founding of Rome. "I wonder if he's learning the languages as he sees things," Henry pondered.

"I doubt it, Hank," Rogue answered. "In every dream I've shared with him, everything's been in English. Since I've had dreams that were in French, I'd guess that it's due to his influence."

"He's said that he's not good with foreign languages," Bobby reminded them. "Besides, he may not be getting any words with this at all. He may be living the experiences."

"Good point," Betsy noted. "There's the Wheel of Time. We've moved to Buddhism."

For several minutes, they observed various aspects of Chinese and Indian mythology, then found that they had shifted back to Western civilization, witnessing the _Pax Romana_ and the rise of Christianity.

A few minutes later, the images suddenly became less distinct, leaning towards the abstract. "What's going on?" Bobby asked.

"Best guess?" Henry answered. "We've reached the advent of Islam. The taboo against portraying objects must be so strong that it permeates the collective consciousness."

"Well, we're back in Europe now," Warren said. "That was a Viking ship."

Several minutes of combat followed. "The medieval period," Xavier concluded. Moments later, when images of bodies began to pile upon one another, he winced. "I think that was the Black Death."

"And this would be the Inquisition," Henry guessed, as shadows were tied to stakes and consigned to flames. "Either that or the start of the Reformation."

"Which means that we'll be seeing the Enlightenment soon," Kitty guessed.

If they did, it went by very quickly, because the next few scenes depicted war and bloodshed. "What is this?" Forge asked.

"I'd say it's the conquest of the Americas," Logan concluded, "The fights seem pretty one-sided, and only one side has guns."

"It could be Africa," Bishop pointed out.

"True."

The images began to go by faster, depicting the conquest of the American West and Africa within a few seconds of one another. "We're hitting the twentieth century," Jean observed. "I wonder what will be important."

The answer appeared to be war.

"World War One," Rogue said as images of trench fighting appeared.

"The Bolshevik Revolution," Kitty said a moment later, as an Orthodox Cross was overturned and replaced with an entwined hammer and sickle.

"The _Shoah_," she continued in a quiet voice, as shadowy boxcars passed underneath a swastika.

"Nukes," Logan said as a mushroom cloud blossomed on the wall.

At that point, images went by too quickly to be distinct. A few seconds later, however, a single, massive shadow dominated the room. Warren frowned. "What's that?"

Logan glanced backward. "Him."

The X-Men turned around to find that Will was now standing, still staring straight ahead. Rogue stepped in front of him and looked him in the eyes. "Will," she asked quietly, "can you hear me?"

Slowly, Will's gaze came to rest on her. His face displayed acknowledgement, but not recognition or understanding. He simply stared at her, curious.

Rogue looked at Jean. "What are you getting from him?"

Jean concentrated for a moment, then shook her head. "His mind is absolute chaos. He's aware, but only at the most basic level. Everything else is static. One thing I _can_ tell you is that he's very hungry."

Rogue looked down at Will's hands, which were still wrapped in bandages. "When did we change his dressings last, Hank?"

Henry glanced at his watch. "About twenty-five hours ago."

"Get the scissors and some more gauze, just to be safe. If I'm right, though, he's already healed. Bobby, go to the kitchen, and start pulling out food."

"Make it things that are easy to digest," Henry added. "He's breaking a fast, so his body may have trouble adjusting."

"Right." Bobby hurried out of the room.

Rogue took hold of the front of Will's shirt, tugging lightly. "Come on," she told him in a gentle voice. "It's all right."

Will looked confused for a moment, then took an unsteady step forward. Slowly, as if he was remembering the motions, he began to walk, guided by Rogue's hands.

"Keep your distance," Logan advised the others. "This is Rogue's show. Don't distract her."

"Better yet," Xavier added, Everyone except Henry, Betsy, Rogue, and Jean should go back to bed. We've been up for most of the night."

"I've done my shift," Jean informed him. "It's _your_ turn now."

"Actually, it's mine," Betsy said, correcting her.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen," Henry told Betsy as he headed for the elevator.

"You sure you don't want somebody else around?" Scott asked.

Betsy shook her head. "Logan's right. Having too many people around could cause a problem."

"Besides," Jean added, "I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again, and I could use some company."

"Good night, everybody," Scott said instantly.

* * *

Henry walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, his hands full of gauze and surgical tape. Will was seated at the table, with Rogue beside him. Their chairs were turned so that they faced one another. Bobby was looking in the refrigerator. "That's all I can find, Rogue," he said.

Henry looked at the items on the table: apple juice, chocolate pudding, applesauce, and cold pasta salad. "Not the most balanced of meals," he conceded, "but all easily digestible."

"I wish we had something with more protein, though," Rogue fretted.

Bobby thought about that for a moment, then dug deep into the back on one cabinet. "Found it!" he exclaimed.

"Found what?"

Bobby pulled out a large plastic jar. "Protein powder. Peter used to use it when he was power lifting." Looking at the directions, he added a few spoonfuls of powder to a glass of milk. "That's a daily serving," he told Rogue as he handed the glass to her.

"We may need a few of them," she said. "You've seen how he burns calories when he's healing." She lifted the glass to Will's lips, cradling the back of his head with her other hand.

Will hesitated for a moment, seemingly unfamiliar with the concept, then started to slowly drink. Rogue waited until he had emptied the glass. "Spoon," she requested.

Bobby grabbed a teaspoon from the silverware drawer and handed it to her as she opened up the container of chocolate pudding. "It's probably best to start with something I know he'll eat," she explained.

"Makes sense to me," Bobby agreed.

Rogue nudged Will's mouth open with the spoon, then slid it in. Closing his jaw again, she pulled out the spoon, leaving (most of) the pudding on his tongue. Henry instructed her on how to massage Will's throat and encourage him to swallow. After a moment, he got the idea. His eyes widened just a bit.

"Yeah, you liked that, didn't you?" Rogue asked in a soft, encouraging voice. She glanced at Henry, nodding her head down to Will's bandaged arms.

Henry nodded, taking his surgical scissors and cutting through the layers of gauze and tape. He peeled them off, revealing smooth, unblemished skin. "You were right," he told Rogue.

"Free up his right arm. I want to see if he can feed himself." Once the bandages were stripped away, she took Will's hand and wrapped his fingers around the spoon. She guided him through the motions of dipping the spoon into the bowl, then lifting it to his mouth. He opened his mouth on his own.

"That's encouraging," Bobby noted. "He's learning quickly."

Slowly but steadily, Will ate everything that was on the table. "What now?" Rogue asked Henry. "Should we put him to bed?"

"Well," Bobby suggested, "as crass as it sounds, we might want to bring him to the bathroom first. I mean, I seriously doubt if he's toilet trained right now."

Henry grimaced. "You're right. Come on, we'll take him there." They helped Will sit up, then led him down the floor to the first floor bathroom. Like all the 'public' bathrooms at Xavier's, it was designed to be wheelchair-accessible, so they had no problem fitting three people through the door.

Bobby looked back at Rogue as she tried to enter the room. "I really think that Will would want to preserve his dignity."

Rogue nodded. "You're right. I'll wait out here."

After about twenty minutes, the bathroom door opened, and the three men came out. "I just earned a pass from lab duty for the next week, Hank," Bobby announced

"I think I can agree with that."

They carried Will down the hall to his room, then deposited him in his bead. Rogue pulled the chair from Will's desk and wheeled it alongside the bed.

"You need to rest, too," Bobby pointed out.

"I can sleep here," she said. "I want to make sure he doesn't go wandering anywhere."

"Not a bad idea," Henry admitted. "I'll come by later to check up on him."

Bobby took the comforter from the foot of Will's bed and draped it over Rogue's shoulders. "He'll be all right, Rogue. Try to get some sleep. You're pretty fried right now yourself."

"I will. Could you get the light?"

"Sure." Bobby shut the door behind him as he left.

By this point, the morning sun was making its way past the shutters of Will's windows, reflecting against the furniture and casting random splashes of gold, red, and green over the walls. Rogue stared at the colors until her weariness caught up with her.

"You're almost there," she whispered as she closed her eyes. "Just a little bit farther. I'm here to help you, if you need me."

* * *

"Rogue? Rogue, wake up. We have to get moving."

She groaned and buried her head underneath the pillows. "Five more minutes, Momma."

The pillow was pulled off her. "We're already running late," Raven told her. "You can take a quick shower once Irene is done."

"What about breakfast?"

"We'll grab something at the next town. I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary. Dominic and I finished the job last night."

"Oh. 'Kay, then." She slipped out of the bed. "Should I wake the others, Momma?"

"Already done. If you hurry, you can be packed before Irene is finished."

Nodding, she knelt down and rummaged through her travel bag. "Where are we going next?"

"Austin. Our 'client' wants us to talk with a certain state representative about an upcoming vote."

"Can I go see the while we're there?"

"We'll see."

The bathroom door opened, and Irene stepped out, wrapped in a towel. "Good morning, Rogue," she said in her gentle voice.

"Morning, Nana. Did you save me some hot water?"

"You'll have enough for your shower."

"Good." Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a blue T-shirt and overalls. "All set, Momma."

"Good. Why don't you wait by the van until Irene and I finish checking out?" As she spoke, Raven shifted her form to that of a white-haired, grandfatherly man close in age to Irene.

"'Kay." She grabbed her bag and went outside.

The sun had not yet burned off the morning for, and she could barely see the interstate a few yards away. She put her bag down next to the Mustang that Raven was using for now, then sat down on it and waited. Despite her energy, her mothers had taught her the value of keeping still and listening.

After a little while, she heard something moving by the road. Listening closely, she decided that it was the sound of someone crying. Since she could still hear Fred snoring, she knew that she had a while before they would be leaving, so she decided to investigate.

Standing up, she walked in the direction of the sound. Deciding to play it safe, she slipped her hand into the right pocket of her overalls, where she kept the small switchblade that Raven had given her. After a few seconds of walking, the motel faded into the mist behind her.

When she reached the shoulder of the road, she listened again. Finding that the sound was coming from her left, she started off in that direction. Very soon, an outline was visible in the mist. As she came closer to it, she found that it was a small boy. He was about five years old, she estimated, with brown hair. He was also quite naked, and rubbing his eyes as he cried.

"Hi," she said to him.

The boy let out a brief scream as he uncovered his eyes, taking a few steps backward.

"Don't run!" she said quickly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Are you lost?"

He didn't talk, but did nod to her. His lower lip trembled as he tried to keep from crying. "I wanna go home," he said in a quiet voice.

"Okay. Do you know where home is?"

He pointed straight ahead, to where the road vanished into the fog. "That way."

She thought about it for a moment. Freddy took forever to get ready in the morning, and the boy couldn't be from too far away if he was running around naked. They were in a good-sized town, and somebody would have noticed him. "Do you want me to go with you?" she asked him. "I'll make sure nobody hurts you."

He sniffled and looked at her with hopeful eyes. "Promise?"

She traced an 'X' over the center of her chest. "Cross my heart. Here." Tucking her arms inside her T-shirt, she pulled it over her head, leaving her overalls undisturbed. "Why don't you put this on?" she said as she handed it to him.

"'Kay." She slid the shirt on. It proved to be large enough to serve as a smock.

"Now," she said, holding her hand out to the boy, "let's get you home."

He took her hand and they started off. After only a few steps, however, a voice echoed through the fog.

"Rogue!" Mystique's voice yelled. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm helping him get home, Momma. Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

"You take care of yourself, young lady!" the voice said as it faded away.

They walked along the road, careful to stay near the shoulder. After a few minutes, they developed a comfortable pace, and started walking side-by-side. They were startled by the sound of a gunshot ahead of them. A moment later, A huge, beast-like man with blond hair raced by them, vanishing back into the fog. A few seconds later, a short, muscular man wearing hunting gear and carrying a rifle stepped into their view.

"Almost had him that time," he grumbled.

"Aren't you scared of him?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he admitted, "but fear is a part of life. You gotta accept it, then move past it, or you'll never get anywhere." He looked at the boy. "Remember that, kid."

"I will," the boy promised.

The hunter nodded, then slipped back into the mist.

The two children looked at one another for a moment, then started walking again. After a little while, they heard a deep, sonorous chanting coming towards them. They waited, and soon a bent, twisted figure stumbled out of the mist. He was dressed only in a filthy, ragged pair of grey pants. He held a scourge in his hands, which he whipped across his back.

The girl was somewhat frightened by the strange figure, but did her best to be polite. "Why are you doing that?"

"Payment for my crime," the man groaned.

"What did you do?" the boy asked.

"I survived. I lived to remember the horror. Now I must keep it from ever happening again, and make sure that the world does not forget." He turned his icy blue eyes towards the boy. "Never forget the sacrifices of those who came before you."

"I won't," the boy replied solemnly.

The figure nodded, then walked off into the mist.

The two continued walking. After a while, the sound of carnival music could be heard, and they moved towards it. A quartet of people, all circus performers, stepped out of the mists to greet them.

A tuxedoed magician approached them, holding the hand of his assistant, a lithe, slender brunette. "Greetings, my diminutive guests!" he told them, bowing extravagantly. He waved his hands, and a tall box appeared beside him. He opened a door in the front, and the young woman stepped inside with a smile.

The magician closed the door, then plucked several swords out of the air. Walking around the box, he thrust the swords into it, leaving them in place.

"We just wanted to remind you," he said between thrusts, "to always try to learn whatever you can." He opened the door.

The young woman stepped out of the box, untouched by the blades. "Yeah, you never know when you'll be stuck and need a way out."

"And you should keep your sense of humor," a jester told them as he juggled several clear plastic balls. "Sometimes it'll be the only thing that gets you through the day." He tossed the balls high into the air, and they immediately fell back down, shattering as they hit him on the head and knocked him out.

A dark-skinned woman wearing a peasant's blouse and a long, flowing skirt walked up to them. Her hair was covered with a kerchief, and her eyes shone with both serenity and amusement.

"Hello," she said in a refined, dignified voice, "I can tell you your fortune. Let me see your palm."

The girl held out her right hand, and the woman studied it for a moment. "Oh, the adventures you're going to have, little one!" she breathed. "You're going to touch the sky, my dear, I promise you that."

"What about me?" the boy asked, holding out his hand.

The woman took the boy's hand in hers and looked at it. Her face became grave. "You have a long, difficult journey ahead of you, my dear. It will be hard, but you must be strong. There is so much depending on your actions."

"I'll do my best," the boy promised.

"I know you will," she told him with a smile. "Both of you will. If you both hold on tight to yourselves, and to each other, you'll come through it stronger than ever before. If you stay true, and endure it unbowed, nothing will be able to stand against you. Do you understand?"

The boy thought for a moment. "I don't understand… but I'll try to do what you're asking."

"So will I," the girl added.

"You'll be all right, then." The woman stood up, ruffled their heads fondly, then stepped back. "You should both get home. The path is that way. Remember what you've learned here. It may help you one day."

The pair nodded and walked in the direction that the woman had indicated. Soon, they were surrounded by mist again, but they stayed on the path, and saw a large stone building ahead of them.

The boy smiled. "There's the library. I remember how to get home now." He looked at the girl. "Thanks for coming with me."

"That's okay. We all need some help sometimes."

"Will you be in trouble with your mom?"

"I'm always in trouble." Don't worry about me."

"I'll go home, then." He started walking towards the library, then ran back and quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek before running off again. "'Bye!"

"'Bye."

As the girl started making her way back to the motel, she saw an old friend on the road ahead of her, and ran up to meet him.

"Hi, sugar," he said.

The girl smiled. "Hi, Cody."

* * *

Rogue blinked and lifted her head, sitting up in her chair.

Will sat up in his bed, looking around the room, then focusing on her. His face was alert and responsive.

Rogue felt a lump rise up in her throat. "You made it back."

He smiled at her affectionately. "I had a wonderful guide."


	54. Chapter 54

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

Rogue looked up from her magazine at Will. "Sure." She patted a spot next to her on the bed. "Have a seat."

He sat down, avoiding her eyes for a moment, not saying anything. Rogue said nothing, patiently waiting for him to begin.

In the week since he had come out of his fugue state, Will had barely said more than ten words at a time to any of the residents of the mansion. He seemed to be fine physically, just extremely preoccupied with something. He was, as always, unfailingly polite, just unusually quiet. When Jean and Xavier had tried to probe, they were quietly but firmly rebuffed.

He sat for a moment, thinking. "If I ask you to come someplace with me, without telling you where or why until we get there, will you?"

She studied him closely, noticing how nervous he was. "This is important, isn't it?"

"Very."

"All right. We'll leave tomorrow. I'll pack for a few days. Will I need anything special?"

"Pack for some time in the boonies. We'll be out in the sticks for a while."

"Okay. I'll pack some camping equipment, just in case."

"That might be a good idea." He stood up. "See you in the morning."

* * *

They took a commercial flight to Denver, then a charter to Billings, Montana. After resting for a day at a local hotel, they rented a car, and Rogue followed Will's directions, driving southwest towards the Rocky Mountains.

After about two hours, Will asked Rogue to pull over at a ranger station, He spoke with the ranger for a few minutes, then came back out. "He'll keep an eye on the car for us," he told her. "We can pick up supplies inside." They bought two week's worth of dehydrated trail food and water purification tablets, then loaded up their packs. They then drove for another hour and a half over twisting, serpentine roads.

Will let out a deep sigh at one point. "Pull over here."

Rogue complied, bringing the car to a stop on the soft shoulder of the road, and edging them nervously close to the edge of a cliff.

Will looked at Rogue for a moment before speaking again. "I'm going to apologize in advance for the way that I'll be behaving for the next few days. The place where we're going… has an effect on me.

"I also want to apologize for not telling you why we came here. I didn't say anything because, frankly, I'm being selfish. I want to see how much of it you can figure out on your own.

"Will it be dangerous?" she asked.

"Not to you. Actually, there will probably be times when I won't even acknowledge the fact that you're there."

She thought about it, then nodded.

"Good," he said. "Let's get started then. Pop the trunk."

They stepped out of the car, and Rogue locked all the doors. Will removed their packs, handing Rogue hers. He took a large coil out of the trunk and uncoiled it, finding the halfway point, then tied the rope to the guardrail at the edge of the road.

"Why don't I just fly us down?" she asked.

"I have to go down this way," he replied. He took a safety harness out of his pack, putting it on. He then attached a D-clip to the harness, running the rope through it. "You can meet me at the bottom if you want."

"I'll just hover alongside you, just in case."

"Fair enough." Slowly and cautiously, he rappelled down the side of the cliff, stopping occasionally to steady himself. Rogue floated beside him, staying close enough to grab him should he slip.

It took him about five minutes to make the descent to the base of the cliff. Rogue let her feet touch the ground while Will unhooked the harness. "Now what?" she asked.

Will looked at her. His eyes, now shaded by the cover of the trees, were glowing dimly. "Look around," he asked her, "and tell me what you see."

She looked at the cliff, then moved down, studying the ground, then the trees. After several minutes, she noticed that one large tree had lost a major limb at one point. The amount of growth at the break suggested that it had happened fairly recently… in tree time, at least. Since there were no burn marks, she dismissed lightning as the cause of the break.

Letting her eyes wander, she looked farther down the valley, seeing nothing but trees, ferns, and ivy-covered rocks.

One of which had an antenna sticking out of it.

Her eyes widened, and she looked back at Will, who was showing his poker face. She turned back towards the mound and walked over to it, then started pulling away the ivy. A few tugs stripped some of the plants away, revealing metal beneath.

After a few minutes, Rogue uncovered what turned out to be the burned-out shell of a Toyota Celica. From what she could tell of the chassis, it was a late 1980s model. The windshield had been broken… from an impact on the inside.

Rogue was silent for several seconds. "This is where it happened isn't it?" she asked quietly.

Will nodded, though she couldn't see it. "Yes."

"How long was it before you… came back?"

"Hours. Days. Weeks. I really don't know."

"Which way is the cabin?"

He tilted his head in a northwesterly direction. "About two days hike thataway."

She nodded. "Is it okay if we stay here for a few minutes?"

"Take as long as you need," he said, sitting down on a nearby log.

She stepped up to the wreckage, studying it from several angles. The driver side door was open, so she stepped inside and sat in what was left of the seat.

The front end was flattened almost beyond recognition. She was puzzled by this for a moment, until she realized that the car had landed on its front end, then fallen back down onto all four wheels. Looking at the windshield, she decided that it had been shattered by an impact with the driver's head. The seat had been pushed so far forward by the impact that she could barely squeeze between it and the wheel.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what it would feel like to fall from that height, suddenly stop, then feel nothing at all.

Then to wake up, in pain and alone.

She stepped out of the car. "Let's go."

* * *

"Was it day or night?"

"What?"

"When you… woke up, was it day or night?"

"… Just before dawn, I think. Why?"

"I was wondering if you were in the dark."

"I remember some very faint light. Is that important to you?"

"I just wouldn't want you to wake up in the dark, that's all."

"Oh."

* * *

"We've got about an hour of light left. We'd better set up camp."

"Okay. You want help with the tent?"

"I've got it, thanks. There's a good spot by the stream over there."

"I'll gather up some wood for the fire."

"You know, for dehydrated food, that wasn't too bad. Why'd you put the rest of the food up in that tree?"

"Bears."

"Oh."

"You're yawning."

"I'm not used to walking all day, that's all. For somebody who just got off the disabled list, you walk at a good clip."

"We can slow down a bit tomorrow. We should get there by mid-afternoon."

"Okay. Let's wash the dishes, then turn in."

"How are we going to do this?"

"Well, the packs can go in the vestibule, and we'll hand our shoes upside-down on top of the canopy."

"Why upside-down?"

"Snakes like the warmth."

"Ugh. I didn't need to know that. I meant how are we handling the sleeping arrangements?"

"Oh."

"What's wrong?"

"Well… I'm trying to find a way to say this tactfully."

"Say what?"

"That it might be best right now if we didn't share sleeping bags."

"Why not?"

"My dreams… aren't going to be pleasant for the next few nights. I don't want you to get caught up in them."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, I just don't…"

"No, I understand. How about we sleep head to foot?"

"That should work. The tent has doors at both ends. Why don't you go in first and get ready for bed? I'll put out the fire."

"Okay."

* * *

"You settled in?"

"Uh huh. Come on in."

"Ow."

"What's wrong?"

"Bumped my head on a pole."

"Please try not to step on me."

"I'll do my best." _Rustle_. "All done."

"What'd you strip down to?"

"T-shirt and shorts, just in case my bladder sends out a mayday. You?"

"Same thing. What's for breakfast in the morning?"

"Instant oatmeal, powdered eggs, and hot cocoa."

"Yum."

"It's either that or get up early to catch and grill up a trout."

"… Oatmeal sounds good."

"I thought you might feel that way."

* * *

"Morning."

"Morning. I _love_ your hair."

"That bad?"

"The white streak looks like an electrocuted polecat."

"Great."

"Don't worry. There's a solar shower and canvas bathtub waiting for you at the cabin."

"I _knew_ there was a reason I loved you."

"Just choke down breakfast while I put out the fire."

"Okay. How did you sleep?"

"On and off. I got flashbacks of… what happened, and that woke me up."

"Are you rested enough?"

"I'll make do. I'll break camp while you finish eating. Could you pour another few gallons of water onto the fire when you're done? I want the ashes to be cold to the touch."

"No problem. I don't feel like starting any forest fires."

"Is your pack balanced?"

"Yep. I'm all set."

"Good. I probably won't be talking much today. I'll be going deep into the Chorus, so my conversational skills will leave something to be desired. Once I go into trance, try to ignore the fact that I'm there. Whatever happens, _don't_ interfere."

"Okay. Lead the way."

* * *

"There."

Rogue, who had been keeping an eye on the rocky trail beneath her feet, nearly yelped in shock. It was the only word that Will had spoken in the past six hours.

She looked up, past where Will stood in front of her. The cabin was made of hewn logs, planed and chinked tightly to make a tight seal between them. There were two windows visible from the front, covered by latched shutters. The shutters, like the front door, appeared to have been painted dark green at one time, but the flaked, cracked condition of the paint indicated that it had been quite a while since anyone had applied a new coat.

A stream, about five meters wide, lay between them and the cabin. Will walked forward confidently, hopping from rock to rock across the water, while Rogue decided to play it safe and hovered across.

Will stepped up to the door, then gestured to Rogue that she should go first.

"It's not locked?"

He shook his head. She turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The inside of the cabin was sparse, almost bare. A fireplace, with a large hearth, was built against the wall directly opposite the door. A small basin and mirror were visible in a small bathroom on the right. Some cupboards along one wall were the closest thing to a kitchen that she could see.

She stepped inside, followed by Will. The floor of the cabin was, unsurprisingly, wood. "No lights?" she asked.

Will shook his head, then opened the shutters, brightening the room. Rogue scanned the cabin again, then stood stock still as she noticed something.

There was a brownish discoloration on the floor a few feet in front of her. Its shape seemed familiar to her but she couldn't quite place it. She tilted her head slightly, then gasped.

What she was looking at was the shape of a human body, curled up in fetal position. It was a shape that was the color of dried blood.

She looked up at Will. "This is you, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"How long?"

He held up both hands, then pulled in a thumb.

"Nine days? Weeks? Months?" He nodded at the last word.

"Nine months…" she whispered. _The gestation period for a baby. That can't be a coincidence._ "Did you ever try to wash this out?"

He nodded.

"It's sunk in too deep?"

Another nod. He walked up to the cupboards, then started transferring the contents of their packs into them. Opening another cabinet, he removed a solar shower bag and an Army issue canvas bathtub. After setting them both up outside the cabin, he brought in some wood from a pile just outside the door. After setting up the wood inside the fireplace, he reached above him to the mantle, taking a small box that sat there. Opening the box, he removed a flint, steel, and a pinch of bone-dry pine needles. It took him about a minute to set the needles aflame, and soon afterwards, the fire was building up well. Pulling out a hook attached to the side of the fireplace, he hung a large cast iron pot above the fire. He then took a bucket from a cabinet and went over to the stream, filling the bucket and transferring its contents to the pot. After several trips, the pot was full of slowly heating water.

"I can empty that when it's ready," she suggested. "Why don't you concentrate on what you have to do?"

"Time isn't right. I'll know when." He stood up, unlacing his boots. "Should get ready, though."

He undressed slowly and deliberately, folding up his clothes and placing them inside one of the cabinets. Stepping outside, he walked about ten meters away from the cabin, then turned back around. He sat in lotus position and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. A moment later, his head lolled forward.

Rogue went over to a corner of the room and sat down, leaned against the wall, and waited.

* * *

She sat for nearly an hour, only getting up to check on the temperature of the water, which was nearly hot enough for her bath. She was about to walk over and pick up the pot when she heard movement outside. Listening closely, she decided that the sound was a footfall on the porch of the cabin. Thinking quickly, she flew back to the corner and waited.

After a few seconds, the silence was broken as something began to thud against the door. The thudding continued for about a minute, in a slow, regular beat, shaking the door within its frame. The lock, never sturdy to begin with, gave way, and the door swung inwards, towards where Rogue sat, obscuring her view.

Will fell to the floor with a thud, breathing raspily. He lay there, unmoving, for several minutes, then started to rise slowly, gasping and whimpering in pain. Rising onto hands and knees, he crawled over to the bathroom. Clutching the edge of the sink, he pulled himself up, trying to reach the mirror.

Rogue, who was naturally psi-resistant, struggled to feel her way through whatever link existed between her and Will. All she could get was random noise.

_Hurtsburnspainbloodhowwhyohgodisthatmy**face**-_

She was brought out of the link by a guttural moaning, almost a keening, of horror and fright. There was the sound of stumbling, then another thud as something hit the floor.

Then silence.

She waited for several minutes, then peered around the door.

Will lay atop the stained part of the floor, curled up in fetal position, staring into space. He occasionally let out a quiet whimper of pain.

Rogue stepped out from behind the door and looked at him, wringing her hands in sympathy. _You can't do anything,_ she reminded herself. _You promised him._

Walking over to the fireplace, she picked up the pot of water and took it outside, filling the tub nearly halfway with water. After getting some soap from her backpack, she stripped and entered the water.

She couldn't forget what she'd seen… no matter how hard she scrubbed.

* * *

Several hours later, she opened her eyes as a noise awoke her. Sitting up, she looked over to where Will lay.

He was beginning to stir, rolling over onto all fours, then rising into a crouch. Listening carefully, she could hear his stomach growling in hunger. He stood up, then walked out the door with a loping, yet fluid gait.

She stood up, about to follow him, then looked down at the T-shirt she wore. _Hell with it. Not like there's anybody else here, anyway._ Saving time, she ran out the door dressed as she was.

He ran straight into the trees, moving in almost total silence, stopping occasionally to listen or to sniff at the air. He darted from tree to tree, hiding in the canopies formed by the lower branches of the evergreens.

Rogue decided to hover, since she wouldn't make any noise that way. She floated about three meters above the ground, always staying behind him so that she wouldn't spook him. She tailed him for about half a kilometer before he stopped abruptly.

Climbing over the remains of a truly massive tree, he looked at the ground below him, where a young stag only a few years old, stood nibbling on the leaves of a bush.

Watching Will closely, Rogue could see the tension building in his legs and back just before he leapt, sailing through the air for a moment before landing just next to the stag, wrapping his arms around its neck and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The stag jumped back up instantly, kicking and tossing its head from side to side, trying to throw Will off. Will only tightened his hold and hung on, slowly cutting off the stag's air supply.

After several minutes, the stag started to slow down, finally staggering to the ground. Will pushed with his legs as they collapsed, making sure that he landed atop the stag. With a roar of effort, he continued twisting, until the stag's neck broke with an audible snap.

Will held on until the corpse stopped kicking, then stood up, a wild, predatory look in his eyes. He scrabbled through the pine needles, searching for something.

After a few minutes, he found two fist-sized rocks, which he struck against one another repeatedly. Once a small chip of rock broke off, he took it and used it to cut through the hide of the stag, and then to slice off a large portion of the hindquarters. He slug the meat over one shoulder, he began walking back towards the cabin, looking warily at the forest around him, as though expecting to be attacked.

Rogue waited until he was out of sight, then lowered herself to the ground, breathing heavily as she leaned against a tree.

_That was… incredible,_ she thought to herself. _I didn't think he could go that… wild._ Putting a hand to her face, she found that her cheeks were very flushed. _Big surprise. You just saw your man turn into Tarzan… minus the loincloth. And wasn't **that** a sight to behold._ Will's… excitement… at his kill had been _very_ plain to see.

_I can see why he'd want to keep this private._ _He tries so hard to be in control of his emotions at the Mansion. Right now, he's pure aggression and impulse. He'd probably be embarrassed or ashamed about it if the whole team knew._

_He wasn't afraid to show me, though._

She felt… honored by that.

* * *

She found, upon walking back to the cabin, that he had built a fire, and was now cooking the meat atop the coals, using a stick to turn it over. After a few minutes, he pulled the (mostly burned) chunk of meat off the fire. While he waited for it to cool, he went outside and drank deeply from the stream. She watched, fascinated, as some of the blood washed off his body and was carried downstream.

She followed him back inside, and watched him gorge himself on the meat, to the point where his belly started to swell. Soon afterwards, he yawned, then curled back up into a ball in the center of the room. He was asleep within a few seconds.

_Food and sleep,_ she thought to herself. _Two of the three basic drives. Wonder if he ever did anything about the third one?_

She crawled back into her sleeping bag. Once she was inside, she thought for a moment, then wriggled out of her T-shirt, tossing it onto her pack. She then made herself comfortable.

_On that subject… _

* * *

She awoke several hours later, finding that it was the middle of the day. She was alone in the cabin, so she stood up to look out the window.

He was standing in the middle of the stream, washing off the blood and dirt from his hunt. She watched him closely, admiring the lines of his body. He seemed much calmer than before, now that his hunger had been satiated, and outside of a few scrapes and bruises, which he supposed had been earned during his struggle with the deer, he was unharmed. After bathing in what must have been bitterly cold water, he found a sunny patch of ground and lay down on his stomach to dry off in the sun.

Deciding that he wouldn't be going anywhere for a few minutes, Rogue got dressed, then grabbed a trail breakfast from her backpack. Stepping outside, she sat down on a handy rock and watched, waiting.

After a while, he rolled over onto his back, giving her a nice view as he made himself comfortable. He breathed deeply and stretched, then stood up and headed back towards the cabin. He walked right by her without acknowledging her presence.

Following him inside, she watched as he sat cross-legged in front of the fire, tossing in an extra log or two. He seemed thoughtful, pondering what to do next.

She grew impatient with simply watching him after a while, and decided to take a shower while he was preoccupied. The water in the solar shower proved to be on the pleasant side of lukewarm, and she used her nightshirt as a towel, hanging it on a branch in the sun to dry. She tied her hair back with a rubber band and stepped back inside.

She found that he was now standing, looking around the room wildly, seemingly searching for something. _He's starting to hear the Chorus,_ she realized. _He doesn't know where the sound's coming from. _She hurried into a clean change of clothes, worried that she might have to follow him again.

Her concern proved unwarranted, however, because he covered his ears and grunted in pain. After a few moments he collapsed to the floor, whimpering as he curled up into a ball again.

_He can't tune it out. He's getting lost._ She stated to move towards him, but stopped herself. _You promised not to interfere._

After quite some time, his moans quieted, and his posture became less tense. _He must be figuring out how to shield,_ she thought. Looking closely at his face, she saw that his eyeballs were moving underneath their closed lids. REM state. _He's dreaming again._

He remained that way for several hours, and Rogue killed time by doing push-ups, crunches, and other stationary exercises, then by cooking herself a hot dinner.

He didn't move again until after sunset, when the stars were just beginning to appear in the sky. He arose slowly, so she was able to make herself inconspicuous in a corner.

Walking outside, he looked up at the sky, where a wealth of stars, undimmed by light pollution, shone down on the mountain, bathing everything in a dim, silvery light. He laughed like a child, reaching up as if to touch the dome of the sky, then spun around, arms outstretched, dizzying himself and collapsing to the ground. His eyes now shone brightly, mirroring the light of the stars.

She approached him cautiously, careful not to startle him_. I really wouldn't want to absorb him while he's like this._

Before she had taken more than a few steps, he stood up again, then put his arms to his sides, with his palms facing towards the ground. After a moment, tendrils of energy began to dance between his hands and the ground. _He's charging up. Why?_

After a few seconds of 'charging', he lay back down on the ground, resting the back of his head on his arms. After a moment, he glanced up at her.

Rogue swallowed. "Hi. Can I join you?"

He smiled, then nodded, patting the ground beside him. She got the idea, and lay so that they were facing head-to-head, staring up at the darkening sky.

He pointed up to Orion. "_Osiris_," he said in a soft voice.

She blinked. _Isn't that Egyptian?_ She pointed up at the Little Dipper. "What's that one?"

"_Drag-Blod_"

_Okaaay_… "And that one?" she asked as she pointed to Draco.

"_Naga_."

"I give up," she muttered. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked at him. "Are you cold?"

After taking a moment to think about it, he nodded.

"Why don't we go back inside, then?" She stood up and held her gloved hand out to him. "Come on."

She helped him up and led him back to the cabin, where she sat him down in front of the dying fire, which she revived with the addition of a few extra logs.

"Stay right there," she told him. Thinking for a moment, she removed the sleeping bag from his backpack, then unrolled and unzipped it, draping it over his shoulders. "Better?" she asked.

He nodded. "_Go raibh maith agat_." He turned his attention back to her. He started to lift his hand up to her face, but she quickly caught it and laced her fingers through his.

She smiled sadly. "I know you probably can't understand a word I'm saying right now, but you touch my skin."

He tilted his head quizzically, then leaned forward and sniffed. _Makes sense_, she thought to herself. _He's acting a lot like Logan in feral mode_. She considered that for a moment, then blinked.

_Uh oh._

Before she had a chance to move, she found herself enveloped in Will's arms. He lowered her to the floor, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

She gulped. "Um… Will… I really don't think this is such a good idea. You're not exactly yourself right now, and we _really_ have to be careful…"

He didn't appear to understand her, but a look was building in his eyes that was impossible to misinterpret.

_Eep_. "I'm, uh, _really_ flattered, and I have to admit that you look _very_ good right now…" Her eyes traveled down his body as she spoke, and she nearly swallowed her tongue.

_Mommy, buy me that!_

She snapped her head back up and mentally slapped herself. _Bad girl! Focus!_ Thinking quickly, she drew the sleeping bag around him, giving him what she hoped would be interpreted as a seductive look. "Okay, big boy," she crooned, "we can play if you want." She started rubbing his shoulders, getting an appreciative rumble in response. She continued kneading his muscles as she moved around him so that he faced his back.

A few seconds later, he keeled over as the nerve pinch she administered took effect.

She exhaled in relief as she caught him, lowering him to the floor and covering him with the sleeping bag. "Let's hope you're more yourself when you wake up," she murmured.

Walking back to her own sleeping bag, she stripped down to a T-shirt and underwear and crawled inside.

"I'm racking up some _serious_ karmic payback," she muttered as she fell asleep.

* * *

It was early morning when she woke up again, roused by the chirping of birds. She stretched, yawning and huddling deep inside the sleeping bag to escape the chilly mountain air. "It's too early," she groaned.

"So sleep in."

She blinked at the voice, then turned her head towards its source.

Will stood in front of the fireplace, stirring the contents of a pot. "Breakfast won't be for half an hour or so. It'll be Tang, trail mix, and eggs."

She looked at him closely. He had dressed in a fresh set of clothes from his pack, and his hair was still drying from a recent shower. His beard looked a bit scruffy after several days without trimming, but his eyes were calm and peaceful.

Rogue hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I'll think I'll shower first."

He nodded. "I refilled the shower after I finished. The water should still be fairly hot."

"Okay. I should only be a few minutes."

She grabbed some fresh clothes from her pack and stepped outside. She scrubbed up and rinsed herself off quickly, then toweled herself dry and dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans.

When she came back inside, Will was just beginning to serve breakfast. "I pulled out some cocoa that we didn't use yesterday. Thought that you might appreciate something hot to drink." He placed the cups and dishes on a shirt which he used as a makeshift tablecloth. "Hope you don't mind an indoor picnic."

"I think I can adjust," she said with a smile as she sat cross-legged on the floor. "You feeling better?"

He nodded, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He raised his head and looked at her with disbelief. "How can you ask that? After what I did… how can you stand to look at me?"

She blinked. "Whoa. Back up. What are you talking about?

"Rogue… I was an _animal_. I… gods, what I nearly did to _you_…"

"Hold it right there," she said firmly. "First off, you may have been acting on instinct, but you were never an animal in my eyes. An animal doesn't give names to the stars in the sky, or speak in what I'm guessing were at least three different languages.

"As for the rest of it… if my powers weren't an issue, Will, we'd probably _both_ be exhausted right now. You were pure animal magnetism. For just a while, you out-Wolverined Logan. I have to tell you, you were sex on a stick."

He blinked. "That is one phrase I _never_ thought would be used to describe me."

"Well, it's true. And lastly," she said as she leaned forward and cupped his chin in one hand, "I know that this was an echo of one of the deepest, most profound moments of your life… and I can't _begin_ to describe how much it means to me that you were willing to share it."

"I love you, you lunkhead. Get used to it."

He actually laughed at that. "I guess I'd better. So," he asked as he sat back, "why don't we eat, and then I'll give you a guided tour of my mountain?"

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

He took her on a hike of the immediate area, showing her a cold spring that she had found one day, then hiding behind a tree when a doe and her fawn came to take a drink. He took her a spot that gave her a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains, some of which were high enough to have snow atop their peaks.

By the time they returned to the cabin, it was starting to get dark. She made a quick run into the bathroom, then came out to find that he was starting dinner. "What's cooking tonight?"

"Beef noodle stew and instant potatoes."

"Need any help?"

"Could you mix up the punch?"

"Sure."

A long day of walking combined with a mutant metabolism made quick work of the meal. "Oh, that hit the spot," she sighed as she leaned back.

"Glad you liked it. I can't take the credit, though. It's hard to mess up a freeze-dried meal." He dug into a bag beside him. "Ready for dessert?"

"What is it?"

He pulled out two foil-wrapped bags. "Freeze-dried ice cream, courtesy of NASA."

She opened hers and took a bite. "Not bad," she decided. "Wouldn't want to live on them, though." She yawned. "Think the day's starting to catch up with me. Could you clean up while I change for bed?"

"Sure. I'll toss a few more logs onto the fire while I'm at it."

"Okay. I'll be out in a minute." She took an outfit from her pack and shut the bathroom door behind her.

Will used the hot cooking water to clean the dishes, then dumped it out a window onto the ground. He placed the dishes atop the mantle to dry, then added several logs onto the fire, stoking the coals until they were fully aflame.

He turned around and blinked as Rogue came out of the bathroom. She was wearing her transparent body stocking and microfiber mask. "Ready to turn in?" she asked.

"I didn't realize you were that tired."

"I'm not quite ready to _sleep_ yet, but I _do_ have some other ideas."

He looked at her apprehensively. "Are you sure about this?"

"Completely." She took her sleeping bag and unzipped it completely, spreading it out on the floor in front of the fireplace. "Could you pull yours out?"

He complied, spreading his sleeping bag atop hers. "What next?"

"Empty your pockets, and lose the boots."

After he had done so, she reached towards him and took hold of his shirt, pulling gently. "C'mere," she said softly.

He stepped towards her, and they embraced, resting their heads against one another's shoulders. She sighed happily. "This is nice."

"Very." He slid one hand up and down her back.

"There's a problem, though."

"What's that?"

"You're overdressed. We should do something about that."

"You have a suggestion?"

"I might have a few ideas." She reached up to his collar and started unbuttoning his shirt.

She tugged the shirttails free of his belt line, and pushed his shirt back off his shoulders. Pulling the shirt off him, she let it fall to the floor.

She leaned forward and kissed him – softly at first, then with more passion. She pulled his T-shirt free from his jeans, lifting it off him.

He ran a hand through her hair, drawing her close to him. She melted into his arms, sealing her lips to his and placing her hands on his chest.

They stood there for an endless moment, sharing one breath. Her hands moved along his torso, tracing a line down his stomach towards his waist, then around to his back, where they slid underneath the waistband of his jeans.

Will responded by laying a trail of kisses down her throat, nuzzling for a time at a spot that proved to be particularly sensitive. His hands, meanwhile, ran softly down her sides with a touch light enough to make her shiver, starting just underneath her shoulders and slowly moving down towards her waist.

She crouched slightly, guiding them both slowly to the floor. He followed, wincing slightly at one point. "What's wrong?" she asked, worried.

"Back," was his whispered gasp.

She responded by placing one hand against his spine, just below his shoulder blades. "Lean back," she advised him. He did so, and she slowly lowered him down until he was lying flat. "Better?"

"A bit," he conceded.

"Good." She knelt down beside him and kissed him again. "Will, I want you to do something for me."

"Name it."

She made sure that she looked him in the eye as she spoke. "Let go."

He came close to panic as he caught her meaning. "But…"

"Shh. It's just us right now. For right now, forget the X-Men, forget Apocalypse, forget the Chorus, forget about destiny. Just think about being here, right now.

"I made a promise, remember? I won't let you fall."

He looked pensive for a few moments, seemingly torn by indecision, then nodded. "Give me a few seconds." He closed his eyes for about half a minute, during which she could see them moving rapidly underneath the lids.

When he opened them again, their color seemed somehow… diminished. "I've raised all the barriers I can," he informed her. "I'm as alone in my own head as I can get."

She smiled, secretly touched that he had essentially lowered all of his substantial defenses for her. Kissing him again, she started gently massaging his stomach and ribs. Moving down to his belt line, she looked at him questioningly. He nodded, and she unbuckled his belt, slipping it free and tossing it atop his shirts.

Moving farther down, she removed his socks. Rolling them into balls and tossing them at his head in an attempt to break the tension. He threw them right back, bopping her lightly on the nose. They both laughed for a moment, and she then turned her attention back to his jeans. Unbuttoning the waistband, she slowly lowered the zipper. Motioning for him to lift his hips, she tugged on the legs of the jeans, slipping them off and leaving him in a pair of navy blue boxers. "Nice color," she commented.

"The jeans were blue. I felt like coordinating."

She chuckled. "I see that I have your attention."

"My _undivided_ attention, I assure you."

"Then why don't I return the favor?" She slipped her fingers under the waistband and pulled down.

She was then silent for several seconds.

"…Oh, my."

He blushed from face to chest. "I thought you'd seen that before."

"I have, but… not this close-up. Um… my."

"Maybe I should cover up…"

"_No!_ Um, no need for that. Just give me a second." _Yowza!_ "Okay, I'm all right now. I just need to restart my brain and figure out my next move."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"…Got it."

"…Um…"

"Shh… just relax, okay? Let me take the lead here."

"Wait." He took one hand in his. "C'mere."

She moved up until they were face-to-face again. "Better?" She asked as she resumed her previous action.

"Much," he replied as he held her close, moving one hand down her body. "How much give does this stocking have?"

"Quite a bit, why?"

A moment later, her breath came out in a gasp. _"Oh!"_

"No reason why we _both_ can't enjoy ourselves, is there?"

"None that _I_ can think of."


	55. Chapter 55

Bobby picked them up at the airport. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," Will said as he tossed their backpacks into the trunk. "There been any trouble?"

"Nothing major. We helped evac a six-alarm fire on the docks, but nobody got hurt."

"Glad to hear it," Rogue said as she sat in the passenger seat. "What caused the fire?"

"Electrical system, we think. There's no signs that a superhuman was involved." He pulled out into the traffic, then looked at Will's reflection in the mirror. "How you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks."

"You've got a ton of mail waiting for you back at the mansion."

"I could use a few days to settle down." He shrugged. "I need to catch up on my paperwork, anyway. Jeff is probably going crazy wondering where the hell I am." He looked at Rogue. "Remind me to call him or send an e-mail once we settle in."

"Right." She glanced over at Bobby. "Should we tell him?"

"Tell me what?"

"Let's wait until we get back," Will decided. "We can get it done and over with."

"Oh, come on," Bobby protested. "You can't tease me like this."

"Watch us," Rogue said with an evil grin.

Reaching into his arsenal, Bobby unleashed the Puppy Eyes of Doom on her. _"Please?"_

She sighed. "Oh, all right."

A moment later, Bobby nearly drove the car off the road.

* * *

_"You're WHAT?"_

"Moving in together," Rogue told the assembled team members an hour later. "Shacking up. Sharing a room. Do we need to simplify this any more, or have you all grasped the concept?"

Ororo picked up her jaw first. "When did you come to this decision?"

"Three days ago," Will replied. "We were talking on the trip back to the airport, and it seemed like the right decision."

"Are you sure you've thought this through?" Warren asked incredulously.

Rogue started to become annoyed. "Yes, Wings, we have. What makes you think we haven't?"

Warren looked a bit surprised. He obviously hadn't expected to be challenged. "Well, there's the issue of... of..."

"You can say it, Warren," she said coldly. "My powers."

"We've reached an accommodation on that issue," Will informed Warren. "The specifics are, quite frankly, none of your damn business."

"But..."

"Drop it, Warren," Scott advised.

"But..."

"I said drop it. You didn't voice any objections when Jean and I moved in together, and no one raised a stink about you and Betsy. This is no different." He looked at Will. "Jean and I still have some things in our old room. We can pull them out tonight, if you like."

"There's no rush," Rogue said. "I need time to unpack and run my clothes through the wash."

"You might have more time than that," Xavier informed her. "The students at the Massachusetts Academy have begged us to let Will save them."

Will snapped to attention. "From what?"

"Emma's cooking."

Will blinked, then grinned. "She's that bad?"

Bobby nodded. "They were hoping that you'd be willing to teach them a cooking class. With any luck, Emma might learn a few things herself."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Will said after a moment's thought. "I'll need a few days to set up a course outline and gather up the equipment I'll need. Could Emma provide me with the kids' sizes?"

"We have them on file, actually. Why do you need them?"

"Course materials. I'll have to head into the city tomorrow and go to a few supply houses." He stood up. "I'd better go through my cookbooks. I'll be down later."

Once Will had left the room, Rogue stood up. "Logan, you were planning on teaching the kids a self-defense class, right?"

"That's right. Thought they could use some review time."

"Feel like some company?"

* * *

Four days later, Logan pulled up in front of the Massachusetts Academy. He, Rogue, and Will stepped out of the van.

"Very Old Money," Will observed, looking at the school. "I thought that Emma's fortune was self-made."

"It is," Logan informed him, "but her parents were rich, too."

He nodded. "So where is everybody?"

_"Wolvie!"_

Will ducked out of the way as a blur of yellow rushed past him and straight into Logan.

"WhattookyousolongImissedyouwherehaveyoubeenwhatwereyoudoingcanwegotothemall..."

"Jubes!" Logan interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Breathe," he said with a chuckle.

"Missed ya," she repeated, hugging him again. She looked over at Rogue. "How ya been, Roguey?"

"I've been really, really busy," Rogue replied with a grin.

"So I've heard." She glanced at Will "Is this your boytoy?"

Will appeared amused by the description. "_Am_ I your boytoy?" he asked Rogue.

"We'll talk. Jubes, meet Will Riley."

Jubilee pumped Will's hand firmly. "You've come to save us from ketchup omlettes?"

"I'll try. I'm hoping that you'll be able to fix your own meals in a few weeks."

"And hopefully, Jubilation," Emma said as she walked out the from entrance, "you will learn that meals do not come in cardboard boxes."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Frost. How are you today?"

"Please, Will, call me Emma. We'll be working together for the next few weeks." She nodded to Rogue and Logan. "Rogue, Wolverine. How was the drive here?"

"Pretty smooth," Logan replied. "We managed to avoid rush hour. Where's Sean?"

"He had some legal business to take care of in Ireland."

"Where do you want us to put the equipment?" Rogue asked.

"I wanted to talk to you about that. We stopped using the biology lab some time ago, since our biology curriculum is mostly done on computer now. The gas lines still work, and there's plenty of seating."

Will considered it. "That could work. I'll need two full-size ovens, though."

"I arranged to rent them from a local caterer. They'll be arriving tomorrow afternoon."

"That'll be fine. Tonight's class was going to be on equipment and safety, so I won't need the ovens just yet. If you can get some strong backs and point us towards the bio lab, I can set things up."

* * *

Ten minutes later, the members of Generation X were transporting Will's KitchenAid mixer, food processor, portable burner, and several boxes of Calphalon pots and pans into the biology lab. Will, Rogue, and Logan carried some sealed boxes that had been set aside.

Once Will was busy getting his equipment set up, Rogue pulled Emma aside for a moment. "Did the Professor explain about Will and me?"

Emma nodded. "Would you two prefer to share a room?"

"To be honest, yes. But if you think it'll set a bad example for the kids, we'll understand."

Emma smiled wryly. "You do realize the irony of asking my opinion about this, don't you?"

"You're _in loco parentis_ for the students. We both respect that."

"And I appreciate it, believe me. I don't think you'll have any problem. Jubilation was thrilled when she found out that you were in a relationship. She's probably going to try to pump you for inside information."

"We haven't talked in a while. I won't mind."

"All right, then. I'll show you to your room. Did you want to help out with any classes?"

"What do you think I'd be qualified for? I'm not licensed as a teacher – not in New York _or_ here."

"I was thinking that you could teach a course on piloting skills. I have a Cessna Skylane at the local airfield that you can use, if you like."

"All right. Will and I should be able to arrange the schedule so that somebody's free each afternoon for a few hours."

"Monet can be excused from that class. She's already earned a pilot's license."

"Fair enough."

"Here's your room," Emma said as she opened a door, revealing a fairly small, but serviceable bedroom with a queen-sized bed, desk, and two armoires. "The bathroom's through that door there."

"Which wing is this?"

"The ladies' wing. Sean and I decided that the girls were less likely to be overtly improper. There was one question that I wanted to ask."

"What's that?"

"Will wasn't planning on having Jonothan take his class, was he?"

"No, he has something else in mind for him. He said that he'd talk to him before the class started."

* * *

_Knock, knock._

Jonothon opened his door and looked at the visitor. **_Yes, Mister Riley?_**

"I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if you don't mind."

**_Sure. C'mon in._** Jonothon stepped aside and let Will enter his room. He cleared some papers off his chair for Will, then sat down on his bed. **_Did you need any help setting things up?_**

Will shook his head. "No, I'm done, thanks. I wanted to talk to you about the class."

**_Didn't see much point in taking it_**, Jono confessed. **_I can't eat anything, or even check it for taste._**

"I agree, but Emma is allowing this class to count on everyone's transcript, so I thought that you deserved the chance to earn some credits yourself."

Jono blinked. **_That's a good point. Hadn't thought about it._** He straightened up a bit. **_You have an alternative in mind?_**

"I was thinking of a research paper."

_**On cooking?**_

"Well, I'm a history buff as well as a cook. Why don't we try this: write me a fifteen to twenty-page research paper on how a product used as food, or a process connected to food, has affected the development of a society."

Jono digested that. **_Can you give me a few examples?_**

"Sure. European cravings for spices driving the Crusades, and later Colombus. Prohibition in the U.S. during the 1920s. The introduction of the potato to Irish society. The effects of monoculture farming on colonial and post-colonial Africa. The introduction of refrigeration and its effect on eating habits. Get the idea?"

**_I think so. Any preferences for citations?_**

"I'm not too picky about that. Just use whatever Emma prefers. If you get it done early enough, I might have an extra credit project for you."

**_What's that?_**

"I'll leave it for a surprise." He stood up. "I have to get ready for the class. Let me know if you have any questions."

* * *

Half an hour later, the members of Generation X, along with Emma and Rogue, entered the biology lab and took their seats. Will entered a moment later, wearing the traditional white chef's jacket.

"Good evening, everyone," he said cheerfully. "For those of you who I haven't met yet, I'm Mister Riley. Since I'm going to be your teacher for a while, that's how I'd prefer to be addressed.

"The name of this class is 'Food and History'. We're covering both, because they're inseparable. The history of food is the history of humankind. Food's been responsible for the rise and fall of civilizations. It's been the rationale for invasions. It's been used as a weapon to subjugate cultures. "Food has also helped to define cultures. A pizza makes you think of Italy. Matzoth is a central part of Jewish tradition. Coca-Cola means 'America' to people all over the world.

"We'll be starting actual food preparation tomorrow evening. Tonight, we're going to focus on equipment and kitchen safety." He looked towards the door. "Logan, could you bring them in, please?"

Logan walked into the room a moment later, pushing a cart which supported seven garment boxes and seven plastic toolboxes.

"Please take the box that has your name on it," Will instructed them. "The contents of the toolboxes are all the same, so there's no need to compete over them."

Jubilee grabbed her boxes and returned to her seat first. She opened the garment box and squealed delightedly as she removed a chef's coat and hat.

Monet sighed and looked at Will. "You just _had_ to give her a yellow one, didn't you?" Will just shrugged.

After everyone was dressed in chef jackets in various colors (Emma and Rogue, of course, got white and green), the toolboxes were opened to reveal carbon steel cutlery sets, measuring cups and spoons, plastic serving spoons, small cutting boards, oven thermometers and mitts, and other assorted kitchen doodads. Will spent the next half-hour or so teaching the basics of kitchen safety, including how to properly handle and sharpen knives. He had each student demonstrate their technique, offering an occasional tip or a slight adjustment of a pair of hands.

"All right," he said when he was satisfied with everyone's progress, "that's enough for tonight. You've got a simple homework assignment." He waited a moment for the groans to subside. "Relax, it's an easy one. I just want a list of some of your favorite foods. Try to keep it down to ten or so. "I suggest that you all get to bed early tonight. We're leaving for a class trip at five A.M."

There was a moment of silence at that. "To where?" Paige finally asked.

"Boston. Specifically, the Haymarket."

"The what?"

"It's the local produce market in Boston," Emma informed her. "Fresh vegetables and fish come in every morning." She looked at Will. "We should bring some sacks for our purchases. The vendors don't always have them."

Will nodded. "That's it for today, then. We'll meet at the front door at five."

* * *

"I put your bags inside the wardrobe," Rogue said to Will as they entered the bedroom.

He nodded. "Do you want to come along in the morning, or should I let you sleep in?"

"No, I'll come along. I have the outfit and the gear. It wouldn't be fair to the kids or Emma if I ducked out on anything. Did you ask Logan if he wanted to go?"

"Didn't have to. He volunteered to drive." He removed one of his suitcases and opened it. "Did Jubilee corner you yet?"

She nodded. "While you were talking with Paige and Monet. She'll be inspecting you."

"I'm trembling with fear. Really. I'll cover up tonight, if you want."

"Okay. I want to shower before bed, anyway. It'll save us some time in the morning."

"Not a bad idea. I'll set the alarm for four-fifteen. That should give us both enough time."

She nodded and started to undress. "I should only be a few minutes."

He motioned for her to wait. "Hold on a second." Entering the bathroom, he shut off the light and closed the door behind him. A few seconds later, she heard two male screams, followed by a splash.

Will stepped out of the bathroom a moment later. "Enjoy your shower."

* * *

(Very) early the next morning, the students, minus Jono, and the adults piled into the school's van. "We'll pick up some breakfast after we've finished shopping," Will told everyone. "We should be finished just after the morning crush."

Several groans, from both the students and Emma, were the only response. Will sighed. "Okay, we'll stop for coffee on the way."

"I like that idea," Paige mumbled sleepily.

"Me too," Angelo agreed.

"Me three," Emma finished.

The mood of the passengers improved markedly when Logan pulled into the local McBurgers and Will purchased seven large coffees and two jumbo Cokes (for himself and Jubilee).

The sun was just starting to rise as they entered Boston. Logan found a decent parking spot a block away from the Haymarket, and they stepped out onto the curb. Will looked at Logan. "Did you remember the coolers?"

He nodded. "They're about half-full of ice."

"Okay. We can always dump some if we need to." He turned to the rest of the group. "Most of what we'll be getting today will be staples – things that will last for a while. We'll also be picking up some meat and fish so that I can show you what to look for when you're shopping. If you see something that you like, point it out. I'll see if we can fit it into the menu somewhere. Let's go."

Over the next two hours, they wandered throughout the market. Will showed them what to look for in fish (bright eyes, firm flesh), beef (no discoloration), and vegetables. They picked up several varieties of fruit, including some varieties that Monet remembered from her childhood in Algeria, such as figs and dates. Will also picked up several bunches of fresh herbs and spices.

Emma sniffed the air at one point. "What _is_ that?" she asked. "It smells delicious."

Monet inhaled deeply. "That," she said dreamily, "is something that I haven't had in a _long_ time."

She led them towards a stall where a grocer was roasting several large cuts of meat on spits over a grill. "Are those ready yet?" she asked politely. The grocer nodded. Monet looked over her shoulder for a moment, then back to the grill. "Nine, please," she requested as she dug out her money.

Jubilee was looking at hers a few minutes later. "What did you say this was?" she asked Monet.

"Spiced lamb," she replied, as she tore into hers enthusiastically.

Jubilee looked at hers dubiously for a moment, then took a nibble. "Not bad," she decided. She then turned to Will. "Could you make this?"

"It'll take some experimentation, but I think so. Did you want to pick up some fish for sushi, Logan?"

"Let's do some rice and chicken dishes first. I'll get some scraps for stock, though."

"And I'll pick up some bones from that butcher we hit earlier. Does anybody else have any requests? No? Okay, then. We'll head back to the school, then take a break until four."

"Why the break?" Ev asked.

"Teacher needs a nap."

* * *

While Teacher took his nap, Jubilee finally managed to corner Rogue. "Okay, girl, spill it. What's the story with you and the Kiefer wannabe?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, you're rooming, right? That must mean..."

Rogue raised one hand to signal 'stop'. "I'm afraid that's private, Jubes."

Jubilee stopped in midstream. "Okay. Fair enough. Emma told me he's worth a few bucks."

"A few billion, actually."

Jubilee whistled. "And Wolvie said he's a decent fighter. I know Loganese well enough to know that means he's _really_ good."

"I've seen him fight Logan to a standstill. They have very different styles, though. Will is a lot sneakier than Logan is."

"And he _really_ kicked the crap out of Pocket-lips?"

"That's what I've been told. I wasn't too aware of what was going on at the time."

Jubilee nodded, then smiled warmly. "Ya love him?"

"To bits."

"He good to you?"

"The best."

"Guess I can't ask for more than that." She gave Rogue a disappointed look. "This means that I can't torture him now."

"You always have Bobby."

"Good point."

* * *

Jubilee decided to convince Logan to take her to the mall, so Rogue went back to her room. She found that Will was already asleep, his head buried underneath a pillow. After watching him for a moment, she changed into a light sweatsuit and moisturizing gloves. Slipping on a mask just in case, she curled up beside him and quickly fell asleep.

The alarm snapped them both awake at three-fifteen. Rogue groaned as Will stood up to turn it off. "Why do you put it so far away?"

"Because if I didn't have to get out of the bed, I'd shut it off without ever waking up."

"Good point. Do you have enough time to prep for the class?"

"Plenty. Can you help me move some stuff over to the lab?"

"Sure."

* * *

When the school residents convened for the evening class, Will had them write their names on slips of paper, then literally picked Paige's name out of a hat. "You're my first victim, Ms. Guthrie," he announced. "Come on down. Bring your gear, please. Tonight's lesson is a culinary basic: soup stocks."

Pulling some beef bones from the oven, then chicken bones from a cooler, Will led Paige, and thus the rest of the class, through the process of slicing vegetables and adding water to the stock. "Good work," he told Paige when they were done. "You get to skip out on helping with dinner tonight."

"What _is_ dinner?" Angelo asked.

"I'm giving you all a chance to practice your cutting skills. You each get to chop up a vegetable for stir-fry."

* * *

As the next few days went by, Will established a pattern for the class. He would demonstrate a technique, randomly choose a student to work with him for personalized instruction, then enlist their help in preparing a meal which incorporated the lesson.

After a while, he was able to make some evaluations of his students' abilities. Monet had an excellent memory for recipes, as well as a refined palate, but could not improvise well, preferring to work with a fixed set of instructions.

Everett was a competent cook whose tastes ran towards generic American cuisine. He didn't make many mistakes, but neither did he take any risks.

Angelo, in contrast, was constantly looking through Will's cookbooks for the latest avant-garde dishes. Oddly, he also became a big fan of cooking shows.

Paige was most comfortable with Southern cuisine, looking to comfort food as her inspiration. Will simply showed her ways to prepare such food in a manner that was a bit healthier.

Jubilee, it seemed, had the potential to become quite skilled as a dessert chef. She proved to be as adept at creating fruit pies as at whipping up a crème brulee. Will even suggested that she look into classes at the local college.

Emma, however, was a problem. She gave an honest attempt at everything, but couldn't get things to come out right unless Will was hovering over her every move. Trying to determine why took some doing, but they finally realized that Emma's sense of time was just a little off. Will stuck a clock right in front of her while she was cooking, and the result was a noticeable improvement in the finished product.

Rogue had something of an edge in the class, because she had observed Will's technique in the kitchen for quite some time. She was especially fond of baking, and found several varieties of quick breads, pizzas, and bruschettas that everyone enjoyed.

Logan, meanwhile, ran each of the students through their evaluations, pointing out to each of them where their combat technique could stand improvement. He also stayed away from the kitchen until it was time to eat.

Rogue spent her afternoons giving piloting lessons to the students. They may not have learned much, but they enjoyed themselves, and it gave Rogue a chance to get to know the students a bit better. Jubilee caught up on the gossip at the Mansion, and gave Rogue some ideas for the eternal prank war with Bobby and Henry.

The evenings were devoted to cooking, with the students making meals under Will's observation. He didn't interfere, but did offer suggestions from time to time. He encouraged innovation and experimentation, so Paige offered up sweet potato pancakes for breakfast one morning, while Monet offered seasoned couscous as a side dish rather than rice. Emma kept things basic, with meals such as roast chicken with wild rice and boiled celery.

Jubilee, when given an opportunity to make a full meal, decided to go all-out, and went so far as to ask Will to pick up some eggs from the West Coast to avoid any risk of salmonella poisoning. Her dinner was a cheese soufflé, with honey-glazed baby carrots and a salad of baby greens. Emma and the other students looked almost shocked at the success of Jubilee's culinary attempt.

"Jubes, this is fantastic," Angelo told her.

"Thanks, Ange. I really enjoyed doin' it, actually. Mister Riley gave me some help, though."

"Only for the things that you haven't learned yet," Will pointed out. "I'll try to find some cookbooks that can guide you through some more advanced work."

"Okay. Can you show me where to get those icing knives the book showed?"

"I'll show you a Web site later."

"'Kay. Rogue told me that you and Wolvie make good sparring partners."

"He keeps me on my toes," Logan agreed.

"Could you give us a demonstration?" Angelo asked.

Will and Logan looked at one another, then shrugged. "Why not?" Will said. "Give us an hour to let dinner digest, and we'll meet in the gym."

"And I can give you kids another lesson while I'm at it," Logan added.

"In what?" Monet asked.

"Breaking."

* * *

"Not bad," Logan told Jubilee an hour later. "That's one more block than the last time I tested you."

"I've been practicing," she said proudly.

All of the students, in fact, had shown quite a bit of improvement in form and strength – though, Logan admitted to himself, it was sort of hard to tell in Monet's case, since she was capable of breaking bricks _anyway_.

Logan entertained himself by tossing the kids around for a few minutes, then turned to Will. "Ready to show them how it's done, rookie?"

"Oh, I'm back to back to being a rookie now?" Will stood up with a soft grunt, then faced Logan from across the mat, taking a defensive posture.

Rogue had watched Logan and Will spar before, so she concentrated on studying the differences in their combat styles. Logan relied on his healing factor and adamantium skeleton to deal with any damage, and didn't even bother trying to avoid Will's blows. Will, conversely, took hits only when they were unavoidable, but used his lighter weight and faster speed to land three blows to each one of Logan's, and aimed his attacks at soft tissue areas, with kidney punches and throat chops among his arsenal.

Emma took a moment to study the reactions that the students were displaying. Jubilee was openmouthed, seemingly shocked that anyone could hold out against her 'Wolvie' for so long. Paige, Jono, Ev and Angelo were simply trying to keep up, while Monet watched with her usual clinical detachment.

Will and Logan stepped back from one another and relaxed their postures. "Not a bad workout," Logan commented.

Will nodded. "We'll have to up the intensity next time."

Jubilee looked at them incredulously. "That wasn't your top form?" she asked Will.

"Nope. If we were _really_ pushing it, we'd both be drawing blood."

The room was quiet for a moment. "Remind me not to tick you off," Angelo said in a small voice.

"Noted."

* * *

Will spent some time on his computer after everyone called it a night, sending some emails to Jeff Riordhan and catching up on his business responsibilities. Rogue took the time to enjoy a nice, steaming hot bath while he was occupied. She came out, wrapped in a towel, to find that he was frowning at the screen. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Jeff sent me copies of some of the contracts that have piled up since we visited. Something's bugging me about this one, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Let me see." She leaned forward to read the document as Will held the laptop for her. "Seems straightforward enough to me, but I'm no lawyer. You could ask Emma to look at it for you. She's certainly seen enough of these."

"It's a thought. I'll do it in the morning." He shut the computer down. "I was thinking of wrapping the class up by the end of the week, if Jono finishes his paper by then, which I think he will."

"How's he doing with that?"

"Pretty well. He decided to do it on the impact of the beef industry on global warming. I don't know about his conclusions yet, but his research seems solid."

She nodded and tossed off the towel, changing into her Chinese pajamas, and slipping on socks and silk gloves. She pulled on her mask, then climbed underneath the sheets and curled up beside Will.

"I see that you're in a cuddling mood," he commented.

"I'm in the mood for more than that, but I promised to be good until we head back."

"Where's the fun in that?" He kissed her on the forehead and turned off the light.

* * *

The next morning, as the students happily wolfed down breakfast (Will had made crepes, with a Grand Marnier-flavored cream cheese filling), Emma looked over Will's contract. "This looks fairly standard to me, Will. What's bothering you about it?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," he admitted. "I may have to do some more research."

"You could put the Crypt Crew to work on it," Rogue suggested. "Didn't you need to keep them busy?"

Will blinked. "You're a genius. Remind me to email them right after breakfast. He turned to look at Jono, who was reading that morning's Boston Globe. "When do you think your paper will be ready?"

_**I finished writing it last night. Give me a few hours to do some polishing, and you can have it after dinner.**_

"Good. In that case, we'll wrap up the class this afternoon. Emma, I was going to offer to take the class out for dinner. Any objections?"

"None here. Did you have someplace in mind?"

"I'll leave that up to all of you."

* * *

"Well, that wound up being a lot cheaper than I had expected," Will commented as they left the local diner.

"We needed some simple food after the way you've been stuffing us," Paige explained.

"Can't argue with that, I suppose." He climbed into the back seat of the van and pulled Jono's report out of his jacket pocket.

By the time they returned to the school, Will had finished reading. He pulled Emma aside as the entered the building and nodded towards her office. Emma nodded in return, and they went in, closing the door behind them.

About ten minutes later, Jono received a telepathic summons from Emma. He entered her office about two minutes later. **_Yes, Ms. Frost?_**

"Come in, Jono." She told him from behind her desk. "Mister Riley just finished giving me his evaluation of your report."

Will, who sat in a chair in front of Emma's desk, motioned for Jono to sit in the chair across from him. "I was very impressed with the scope of your research. You pulled together material from sources that I hadn't expected."

_**The Internet is a wonderful thing.**_

"I agree. This doesn't affect your grade, but for future reference, I suggest that you put the addresses of the introductory pages of the Web sites you're referring from. Web sites tend to change quickly, and the specific pages that you cited might not exist a month from now."

"Having said that... your research was solid, your reasoning was easy to follow, and your conclusion seems plausible. I'm happy to announce that you, like the rest of the class, get an 'A'."

_**Thanks. I put a lot of time into it. Enjoyed it, though. How many credits will this give me, Ms. Frost?**_

"Three credits, like the rest of the class. Congratulations, Jono. Good work."

"That wraps up my teaching duties, Emma. If Rogue and Logan have no objections, we'll head back sometime tomorrow."

_**Want help packing your stuff back up?**_

"Thank you, Mister Starsmore. I'd appreciate that."

* * *

Emma called the other students together to help pack up Will's supplies, and Logan phoned Xavier to let them know that they would be returning the next day. "Mind giving Jubilee tomorrow off?" he asked Emma. "I was gonna take her out for a while. It may be a while before I can get back up here again, and I'd like to spend some time with her."

"How will you get back by tomorrow night, then?"

"I'll take care of that," Will told her. "I'll just teleport us right back."

"All right, then. The students can have tomorrow off. Sean won't be returning until the end of the week, so I don't see much point in starting some new lessons if I'll just have to bring him up to speed later."

"Will that set the kids behind?" Rogue asked.

"Not really. I run everything on an accelerated schedule. Since I have so few students to concentrate on, I can tailor things to suit them. Both Monet and Jono are taking college level work, and Jubilee should be ready for her G.E.D. in a few months."

"Has she taken the PSAT yet?"

"Not yet. I'm seeing if she can take it untimed, due to her learning disability."

Will raised an eyebrow at that. "What kind?"

"Dyscalcuila."

He was silent for a moment. "If she needs someone to talk to about it, You can tell her that I'm L.D. too. A.D.D.," he clarified at Emma's curious look.

"Oh. It might do her good to know that she's not alone among the X-Men."

"Well, I'd prefer that you keep it between the two of you, if you can."

"Jubes can keep her mouth shut if there's a need," Logan assured him.

Will nodded. "I'll accept that. Tell her if you think it would be of any help."

They were interrupted by Angelo, who walked over from the van. "Everything's packed up," he told them. "We left some room near the back door for your suitcases."

"Very good, Angelo," Emma replied "You all have until curfew tomorrow off."

Angelo's face broke into a grin. "You don't have to tell _me_ twice." He bounded over to the van to tell the others.

"Think I'll go grab Jubes before she decides to go see a boy band or somethin'," Logan decided. "Mind if I borrow one of your Jeeps, Emma?"

"Not at all. Let me get the keys."

"What are you two gonna do?" Logan asked Rogue.

"Popcorn and a movie sounds good to me." She looked at Will. "Any ideas on a flick?"

He thought for a moment. "Ever seen the _Evil Dead_ series?"

"Nope."

"'Groovy.'"


	56. Chapter 56

Upon returning to the mansion, Will put all of his supplies away, tossed his laundry down the chute, then went with Rogue to inspect their new room.

"It was nice of Scott and Jean to leave us the dresser," Rogue mused, "but it's _going_ as soon as we can find a decent replacement."

"No argument here. That thing's vile." He thought a moment. "How deep are the closets?"

Opening the folding doors, she looked inside. "I'd say just under a meter."

"And how wide?"

"Call it two and a quarter."

He looked over her shoulder into the closet. "Could you live with a little less space to hang clothes?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking that I could install some built-in drawers on the sides. It would give us ten or twelve dresser drawers apiece, and maybe a cabinet-sized space at the top. That gives us more floor space to work with."

"That works. Any other changes in mind?"

"A new color on the walls would be nice. How does forest green sound to you?"

"You read my mind. That would leave furniture to discuss."

"I can make due with one desk now, since I'm using my laptop for everything. Do you want me to build you one?"

"No, I usually do paperwork in bed. A file cabinet and bookshelf would be nice, though."

"I can modify the bookcases I have now for that. I'll install lateral file drawers in the bottom shelves."

"Okay. That just leaves the bed and nightstands."

"Find a design that we can agree on, and I'll get started on building them. Once the frame's done, we can shop for a mattress."

* * *

They spent several days working together on the room. Will focused on construction, building the closet drawers, file drawers, and a bed frame with matching nightstands. Rogue focused on decoration, painting the walls (with Ororo's help), installing fixtures, such as brass switch plates, curtains, rugs, and linens.

Will even managed to slip in a surprise or two for Rogue. After taking a shift at monitor duty, she discovered that Will and Logan had been busy in the room's attached bathroom. They had installed a multi-head shower system, with a bench and water glass stall, a monstrous tub with whirlpool jets, and a wall-mounted towel warmer. She hugged Logan so hard that his bones almost creaked, and planned a very special surprise for Will.

After about a week and a half of solid work, everything was finished. Jean leant a telekinetic 'hand', nudging the bookshelves into place after Will teleported them into the room. Will installed the file drawers, then moved his desk into place in a corner of the room. His leather chair went into the opposite corner. Rogue moved her clothes in and hung Peter's portrait of Will on some free wall space, then put her beauty products in the bathroom. Will moved his wardrobe to a spot next to his closet, and fit the rest of his clothes into the drawers that he had built.

The last item installed was the one that was most important symbolically: the bed. Will had constructed it sturdily, and it was heavy enough to have an aura of stability and permanence. Rogue had bought a blue-and-green comforter with a matching set of navy blue sheets and pillowcases. "What do you think?" she asked him.

"Let's see if it passes inspection." He stepped out of the room for a moment. When he returned, he was holding Smoke in his arms. He lowered the cat to the floor, and she explored the room for a few minutes. Apparently satisfied, she jumped up onto the bed, then curled up and went to sleep.

Will and Rogue looked at each other and grinned. "It passes," they said together.

Will glanced at the clock. "I have to get started on dinner. Do you want help bringing your stuffed animals in?"

"They're already in the closet."

He blinked. "I thought you'd put them on top of your hope chest again."

She shook her head. "I sort of outgrew them. I used them as a substitute for a real person, back when I spent my time fantasizing. Now that I've got the real thing, I don't need them anymore. Besides," she said with a wicked grin, "you're a lot cuddlier."

He laughed. "See you at dinner, love."

* * *

After dinner, Will hung his pictures, with Rogue and Jean providing advice as to location ("Up, down, left, right..."). He then brought in several file boxes full of documents. "What's all this?" Jean asked.

"Old paperwork," he grumbled. "I keep meaning to go through it all and organize it, but I've never gotten around to it."

"I'll help with that," Rogue told him. "We can organize it all, then file it away."

"You sure? This is going to take a while."

"We'll knock out a little every day."

"Let me call Jeff first. I'll need the organizational chart for everything. I'll just leave it here for now." He put the box next to his desk. "What's left in your room?"

"That's pretty much it." She looked around the room, then at the rugs they had placed on either side of the bed to cover the floorboards. "Remind me to get some non-skid pads to put under these."

"Right." He looked at the clock. "We have training in the morning. Want to hit the sack early?"

"Not a bad idea." She went to her closet and pulled out a body stocking from one of the drawers. By the time she was finished changing, Will was dressed in a pair of wine red pajamas. She pulled on her mask, then stepped towards the bed.

"Ready to christen this thing?" she asked with a shy smile.

Will smiled in return, and helped her draw the covers back. They settled underneath the sheets, and Will drew her close to him. Kissing her softly, he ran his hand lightly along her ribs.

Rogue purred. "We're supposed to sleep, you know."

"I know. I'm just trying to imagine waking up next to you every morning for the foreseeable future." He blinked. "Oops. Almost forgot."

"Forgot what?"

He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it up just a crack. A heartbeat later, Smoke ran into the room, jumped onto the bed, and curled up next to Rogue. Will climbed back in, moving the cat to his other side, and settled into spoon position next to Rogue. Kissing her again, he started to drift off.

"And baby makes three," he said with a yawn.

* * *

The training session the next morning was a high-intensity combat drill designed to foster teamwork. Energy cannons (set to stun) lined the walls, while robots attacked from both the ground and the air.

_"Let's make things interesting, Will,"_ Jean said from the control room. _"No teleporting allowed. Super-speed is okay, though."_

Will nodded. "Any other rules?"

"_Nope." _

"All right, then." He snatched his pistol out of its holster and started picking off the aerial drones. Rogue concentrated her attention on the walls, tearing the cannons out of their housings. Betsy and Bishop dealt with the drones on the ground, felling them with a combination of weapon fire, kicks, and sword strikes.

_"Round One complete,"_ Jean said after the last of the robots clattered to the floor. _"On to Round Two." _

The floor beneath them shuddered, then tilted, sending Will, Betsy, and Bishop sliding towards one corner of the room. Rogue tried to grab hold of them, but a new wave of stunner fire drove her back.

Moving quickly, Will flicked his pistol's safety on, then tossed it aside and released the dagger in his wrist sheath. He flipped over onto his stomach, using his momentum to drive the dagger into the floor. Holding on tightly, he swung one leg out and caught Betsy, who grabbed hold. Betsy, in turn, swung a hand out and caught Bishop.

Rogue, meanwhile, had determined a pattern to the stunner fire, and wove her way past the beams. Diving towards the others, she lifted Bishop up, depositing him in a corner, where he braced himself. Pulling out his rifle, he fired a round at the kill switch and ended the session.

"Quick thinking," Betsy told Will as the floor straightened out again.

"Thanks. How's your shoulder?"

"It'll probably be screaming bloody murder in an hour."

"Sorry. Couldn't be helped," he said as he retrieved his pistol and replaced the magazine.

"Don't worry about it. I'll have Hank look at it."

_"Excuse me,"_ Jean's voice cut in,_ "but who said you were done?"_

"I don't like the sound of that," Rogue murmured.

Several doors appeared in the walls, and large, insect-like creatures flew out of them.

"Brood!" Rogue shouted as she ducked out of one's way.

Betsy and Will hit the floor, while Bishop used his position to take out two of the creatures before they had any room to maneuver.

_"This is tag, Will,"_ Jean announced. _"If they touch you, you're dead." _

Will glanced at Betsy. "I'm all right," she told him.

He nodded, then became a blur of motion, emptying his gun into three of the Brood, the slicing one in two with an overhand sweep of his sword. He impaled another with a thrown dagger.

Rogue, who was being chased by two of the Brood, led them on a chase until she could bring them within Bishop's line of fire. Once he picked them off, he tossed Rogue his spare pistol, and the two of them helped Will blow away the remaining four Brood within a crossfire.

_"Level Two finished,"_ Jean announced. _"That's it, guys."_

Will sighed and flipped his pistol's safety back on. "Good. I only had two clips left."

_"Betts, you go see Hank. The rest of you report to debriefing." _

* * *

"I'm sorry about handicapping you like that," Jean told Will a few minutes later, once they had showered and changed, "but there was a reason for it."

"And that reason was?"

"Eventually, we'll wind up in space again. Frankly, I'm amazed that it hasn't happened since you joined. We don't know yet if you can teleport if you're moving at faster-than-light speeds, and we really don't have any way to test it. You may be forced to rely on your other skills."

Will nodded. "Sound reasoning."

"Didn't Doc Strange use some kind of spell to keep you from shorting stuff out during our road trip?" Rogue recalled. "Maybe he could whip up an amulet or something to do the same thing. It'd let you carry some heavier firepower if you had to."

Will considered that. "It's a possibility. I should get back on a training schedule with him, anyway. I'll give him a call later."

* * *

After lunch, Will called Stephen Strange to see if he was amenable to a training session. Finding that he was, he and Rogue teleported to his Sanctum Sanctorum.

"Good afternoon, Miss Rogue, Mister Riley," Wong said politely as he entered the foyer.

"Hello, Wong," Rogue said politely. "Is he in?"

"He's in the inner sanctum. Please follow me."

They were led to a room where Strange sat reading from a rather large tome. "What's that one?" Will asked.

"Some notes that my Master kept during my training. I thought they might give me some ideas on how to proceed with you."

Will nodded, looking down at the floor, where a circle, covered with intricate writing, was set into the floor. "Are you planning on binding me?"

"Not quite. This is designed for observation and testing. It'll let me see how your powers react in certain situations, what form they take, how they focus, and so on. It also does some things automatically, so I don't have to spend time concentrating on them."

"Makes sense. How should we begin?"

"Well, I'd like you barefoot... and bare-chested. I need to see how those dragons of yours react to things."

Will removed his jacket, shirt, shoes, and socks, handing them to Rogue. He then stepped into the center of the circle.

Strange offered Rogue his seat, and pointed out a spot on a shelf to place Will's things. "Are you wearing any metal?" he asked Will.

"No. I figured it would interfere."

"You figured right. Hold on a second while I activate the circle." He gestured, reciting a spell, and the circle began to glow with a reddish light. The glow moved upwards, forming a cylinder which surrounded Will and reached the ceiling.

Strange gestured again, and the light intensified slightly. Will looked around for a moment. "Is it supposed to be opaque?" he asked.

"Yes." He looked at Rogue. "It's like a one-way mirror," he explained. "We can see in, he can't see out."

She nodded. "Can he hear us?"

"He can hear me, when I direct my attention towards him, but not you." He turned back to Will, and held out one hand, palm up. A small globe of energy manifested on his palm, then floated up and flew into the circle. "See that?" he asked Will.

"Yes."

"Good. I want you to concentrate on it, and try to keep it at least a foot away from you. Try to vary your defense, so I can get a look at all your techniques."

"Got it."

"Start now."

The globe neared Will, who kept an eye on it, raising his hand in a 'stop' gesture. It froze for a moment, then drew back and circled him in a slow orbit.

"Don't turn around," Strange instructed him. "You shouldn't try to see every approach. Try to feel them instead."

Will nodded as he kept track of the floating orb. "Follow the bouncing ball..." he murmured.

"I knew he was going to say that," Rouge groaned as she buried her face in one hand.

After a few frontal approaches, Strange tried to 'attack' Will from behind. Will closed his eyes, and a barrier, purplish in color, formed between him and the sphere.

Strange rubbed at his chin. "Interesting. He's focusing his aura to serve as a shield."

"He's done that while we were in the Chorus," Rogue informed him. "That's probably where he got the idea."

Strange nodded. "That would make sense." He moved the sphere to an area in front of Will again, then muttered a brief phrase. The globe froze in place.

"That should hold it. I want to see what his attack strength is like," he told Rogue. "The spell I just cast is able to absorb most attacks." He turned his attention to Will. "Okay, now I want you to hit it with everything you've got."

_WHAM! _

_Binkbinkbinkbinkbinkbink... _

Rogue instinctively dove for cover as the sphere started bouncing against the walls, floor, and ceiling. Her only frame of reference was one of those 'super bounce' balls you got from gum machines.

Strange tried to keep track of the sphere for a few seconds, then gave up and dissolved the spell. A streak of energy zipped past his nose as it vanished. He exhaled, then dispelled the circle surrounding Will. He then walked over to the door, opening it. "Wong! Can you get me something?"

"Yes, Master?"

"What is that, Master?"

Strange paused a moment. "Never mind." Rogue could hear him muttering to himself as he shut the door again.

"You quit drinking, you quit drinking..."

* * *

"Okay," Will asked Strange a few minutes later, "What's the verdict?"

"Let me use an analogy: You're an elephant gun, and everybody else is a mouse."

Will winced. "I take it my finesse leaves something to be desired?"

"I'm not sure if finesse is even possible at your power level. We'll definitely have to work on your sensitivity, though. You seem to go straight from 'Low' to 'Liquefy'."

"That might explain what happened in Nebraska," Rogue mused. "Your initial defenses got knocked out, so you cranked up to maximum."

"It's certainly plausible," Strange agreed.

Will thought for a moment. "Could you give me some exercises to do that would increase my sensitivity?"

He nodded. "It'll take me a day or two to put it together."

"That reminds me," Rogue added. "You used a spell to keep his powers from shorting things out during our road trip. Can you make something he can wear that would duplicate the effect?"

"No problem. You'll have to recharge it occasionally, but I can gear it to charge from sunlight or moonlight."

"Will it include an on/off switch?" Will asked. "There might be times when I _want_ to short something out."

"Good point," Strange conceded. He thought a moment. "Has your costume changed much since I saw you last?"

"I consider it a uniform, but the answer's no."

"I could set the amulet into the slide of your bolo tie. It'll be easy to reach, and you can keep it in a pocket when you're in civvies."

"That would work," Will agreed. "Would it be set to voice or touch?"

"I can do both."

"That might be best. In a combat situation, or an undercover one, I might not always have a hand free."

"What do you want the trigger word to be?"

"It should be something I can remember easily," Will said to himself. "Got it. _Cealgair_."

"Say again?" Rogue asked.

"It's Gaelic for 'rogue'."

"Oh, that's _nice_," she said affectionately.

"It's also practical. If I'm not able to trigger it, then _you'll_ remember the word." He held out a hand, and one of his bolo ties appeared in his palm. "Here's a model to work from," he told Strange as he handed it to him.

"I'll have both items ready for you in a few days."

"Just give me a call when they're ready," Will said as he stood up. "We've got things to do," he reminded Rogue. "You ready to go?"

"All set, she replied, standing next to him. "See you soon, Stephen."

* * *

They spent just over an hour at a bookstore, then had a nice, quiet dinner at Harry's, where they nibbled on fajitas and smothered chicken. Harry came by at one point to see if they needed anything.

Rogue glanced at their depleted pitcher of Coke. "A refill?"

"No problem. We don't see you around as often as we used to."

"That's probably my fault," Will confessed.

Harry looked closely at him. "You've been here before, haven't you?"

"A while back. I've been traveling a lot, and finally got a chance to settle down for a while."

"Planning on sticking around?"

He looked at Rogue. "For the long haul."

Rogue smiled at that. "I guess introductions are in order. Harry, meet my boyfriend, Will Riley."

The two men shook hands firmly. "You work at Xavier's?"

"That's right."

"Want me to set up the usual tab for you?"

"Harry made arrangements with the Institute years ago," Rogue explained upon seeing Will's puzzled look. "We each have a tab that we pay off every month."

"That'll work, I suppose. Thanks for offering."

"No problem. I'll be right back with that Coke."

"That was nice of him," Will commented as Harry walked off.

"That was a smart business move, is what that was. Do you have any idea how much we owe him every month?"

"Everybody comes out ahead. I can live with that."

* * *

They returned to the Mansion just before nine. "What are we scheduled for tomorrow?" Will asked.

Rogue called up the next day's duty schedule on her computer. "I have lunch duty, and you have rifle practice with Bish at ten."

"Light day."

"I won't complain." She stood up. "Think I'll hit the shower before bed. I want to try that new setup you installed."

"Okay. I'll be reading. I'll wrap up tonight, so don't worry about that."

She nodded, then removed her shoes and tossed them inside her closet. She undressed in the bathroom, tossed her dirty clothes down the laundry chute, then stepped into the shower.

Will had installed a series of showerheads, which could deliver anything from a soft waterfall to a pulsing massage spray. She shampooed, then relaxed under a steady, gentle cascade of water that would have been unbearably hot to anyone else.

After grabbing a towel off the warming rack (a luxury she vowed never to do without again), she dried off and styled her hair. Walking back into the bedroom, she looked at Will as she rummaged through her dresser drawers. "Any suggestions on what to wear to bed?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with."

She decided on a pair of light cotton sweatpants and a turtleneck, slipping into them while Will put on his mask and a pair of black cotton gloves. "You wearing socks?" she asked.

"Yep. Pink ones. With puppies on them."

"You wear those with the Hello Kitty boxers, right?"

"Of course."

"Where's Smoke?"

"In my easy chair."

She slid into bed and burrowed her head into his shoulder. "Good. I want you all to myself tonight." She glanced at his gloves. "Where'd you get those?"

"Skin care catalog. You wear them when you've put on ointment and you want to let it sink in during the night."

She nodded. "Will?"

"Hmm?"

"You tired?"

"Not really. You have a plan?"

"You could say that." She kissed him on the cheek. "Turn over." Once he did so, she straddled him and started giving him a backrub. "I noticed you were a little stiff after the training session."

"Nothing too bad. I just needed to do a few stretches, that's all."

"Are you _always_ stiff? I don't think I've seen you get up without wincing yet."

"Hank told me that I have the tightest tendons he's ever seen. It doesn't really affect my mobility, but it does get uncomfortable sometimes."

"Massage therapy should loosen them up. It'll give me a chance to get my hands on you every night, too."

"Something for everybody."

After a few minutes of kneading his back, she slapped him on the rear. "Turn over."

A moment later, Rogue eeped and giggled as Will rolled to the side, tipping her over onto the other side of the bed. "I meant flip _yourself_ over."

"Oops. My mistake." He leaned forward and kissed her. "Any bruises?"

"I'm not sure. You'd better check."

"Yes, Ma'am."

He ran his hands lightly over her face, kissing everyplace he could reach. Sliding one hand down her side, he reached the hem of her shirt. He looked at her for permission, and she nodded with a smile, arching her back as he lifted the turtleneck off her.

Once he made sure that she was comfortably settled on the bed, he made some light passes over her ribs and sides, moving his hands towards her abdomen, then back towards her chest.

After several of these passes, her breaths became heavier and more rapid. "Mmmm... Will?"

"Yes, love?"

"Kiss me. Right now." He obliged, and she wrapped her arms around him, gasping as his hand traced its way over one breast.

"Close your eyes," he instructed her as he drew back from her embrace. She did so, lying back on a pillow.

She felt his hands slide down again, towards her hips. Two fingers slipped under the waistband of her sweatpants, then paused.

"You're okay with this?" he asked.

"I'll be very upset with you if you stop."

He slid them down, stroking her legs as he did so, and pulled them off her. As he moved back up, he let his fingertips caress her inner thighs.

She moaned and let her head loll to the side. "Yesss..."

His hands reached her waist again, and he moved so that he was looking into her eyes. "You sure about this?" he whispered to her, as one hand trailed along her abdominal muscles.

She nodded. "Please..."

A few seconds later, she buried her face in a pillow to stifle her gasp.

Will paused a moment. "Are you okay?"

She lifted the pillow off her head and looked at him with an expression that was more than a little wildly desperate. "I'm okay, I'm more than okay, I'm flamin' fantastic, don't you _dare_ stop!"

He blinked. _Okay, this is a new side to her._ "Wouldn't think of it." _The alternative would be somewhat frightening._ He shifted his hand slightly, eliciting another gasp from her.

After a while, Rogue was practically writhing off the bed. Her eyes were heavy and lidded, and the expression on her face could only be described as wanton rapture. Her face and chest were flushed, and her breath came in short gasps.

Will stared at her, transfixed by this new, almost elemental side to her. While it was certainly arousing (and certain parts of his body would attest to that, under oath), he was primarily moved by the sheer beauty of the moment. Rogue had let go of her defenses and inhibitions. The result was a woman who allowed herself to _be_ a woman, and to live in the moment. He realized that it was likely that _no one_ had seen this facet of her being before, and felt profoundly fortunate that she trusted herself enough to reveal it to him.

Rogue, meanwhile, was lost in her own little world, drunk on sensation and ecstasy. She felt everything from her stomach down tighten as she approached resolution. She tried to tell him that she was close, but all she could get out was a whimper of pleasure.

She let out a low groan as fireworks exploded behind her closed eyelids, and her entire body seemed to tense for one long, breathless moment. After a few seconds, she slumped back against the bed as her bones turned to liquid.

Will sat there silently for a while, dumbstruck at what he had just seen. His wonder turned to panic a few seconds later, however, because Rogue started to cry. "I'm sorry," he babbled, "I didn't mean to hurt you, I'll go get help..."

She grabbed him before he could get off the bed. "No, I'm okay. You didn't hurt me." She smiled at him even as she continued to cry. "I just... it was all a bit too much to deal with, y'know?" She pulled him closer to her. "Just give me a few seconds to put it into words, okay?"

He nodded, still certain that he had done something wrong. "Okay."

She pulled him down beside her and embraced him. "I... I'd given up hope, a long time ago, that I'd ever feel anything like that with a man. What you just did for me... it was perfect, Will. Absolutely perfect. I was crying because for the first time in my life, I felt like a woman... not a little girl pretending to be one." She gave him a long, deep kiss. "God, I love you..."

She pulled the sheets back up, covering them both, then relaxed in his arms. "Let's get to sleep, lover. We have things to do tomorrow." She reached over and shut off her light, falling fast asleep.

She never noticed that he didn't say anything... or that the worried expression never left his face.


	57. Chapter 57

Logan entered the kitchen for breakfast, where he found that Ororo, Bobby, and Henry were already seated. They were all looking strangely at the opposite end of the table, where Rogue sat reading the morning paper. Will was standing behind the counter, making breakfast as usual. "What's goin' on?" he asked Ororo as he sat down.

"They are acting somewhat… oddly," she murmured back.

Looking again, Logan noticed that Rogue was wearing a pantsuit, rather than her usual casual attire. Will was also dressed oddly, in a T-shirt, sweatpants, cook's apron, and slippers. Logan could not recall Will _ever_ wearing slippers.

Rogue ignored Will's gaze and continued to read her paper. "There's a sale at the bookstore," she told Will.

"I'll check it out after lunch." He flipped a pancake over.

"All right. Did you need anything in town?"

"No, I'm good."

There was a moment of silence.

"So how's the Beav?"

"I'm a little worried. Could you talk to him?"

Logan burst into laughter, and Rogue put the paper down and grinned at him. Bobby groaned. "We've been had."

"Glad you finally figured it out," Will said. "Now I can get out of this ridiculous outfit." He looked at Rogue. "Can you finish these for me?"

"Sure." She removed her suit jacket, and took her chef's coat from its peg on the wall. She noticed that everyone was looking at her as Will left the room.

"What?" she asked them. "I took his class. I think I can handle breakfast."

Logan nodded approvingly. "I'll have my usual."

"One angioplasty special coming up."

Most of the Mansion residents had come down by the time Will returned. Just as he sat down to eat, his phone rang. He gave Xavier an apologetic look as he walked away from the table and answered it.

"Who has his number?" Xavier asked Rogue.

"Just us and his attorney, as far as I know."

_"WHAT?"_

Everyone whirled around to look at Will, who had an expression of shocked outrage on his face.

"How did they… oh those sons of… what's my current share? Value? Did they already announce it?" He rubbed at a temple. "Great. Just great."

"All right, here's what I want: email me copies of everything we've got on them as soon as you have it. Go to the Crypt, and tell them that I want them and their gear ready to go anywhere I say within an hour's notice. The same goes for you. Is Maire still on break? Okay, she and Nuala are welcome to come along, since this is probably going to take a while. I'll do what I can to arrange some help on this end. Call me back when you have everything set up.

"No, Jeff, I'm not mad at _you_. We got outmaneuvered… it had to happen sometime. We just have to bust our butts to salvage the situation. All right, I'll talk to you later." He switched the phone off, took a deep breath, then turned to Xavier. "May I use your office for a moment?" he asked politely.

"Of course."

"Be right back." He walked into the office and shut the door behind him.

The next five minutes were taken up by a stream of profanity that was inventive enough to raise an eyebrow from Logan, and turn all of the ladies' faces beet red.

"Feel better?" Xavier asked him when he came out.

"Not really, but at least now I can be polite for a while."

"What's happened?"

Will looked at Rogue. "Remember that contract that was bugging me?"

"What about it?"

"It gave me, in one of the subclauses, a two percent share in a firm called Superion Systems, Inc."

"What's so bad about that?" Bobby asked.

Rogue thought back to their meeting in Dublin. "You already owned thirty-nine percent of it."

He nodded. "Which now makes me the majority shareholder. Given the way the company's structured, it also makes me the CEO."

"So now you're in the public eye," Warren shrugged. "So what? I grew up in it."

"Warren, I _hate_ drawing attention to myself, and this forces me to do just that. And do you think that I would have been virtually handed over control of a company if its future was rosy?"

Warren thought about that. "Somebody there knows something you don't."

"And I have to learn what it is. Fast. Bobby, are all your certifications up to date?"

Bobby blinked. "Yeah, why?"

"I want to hire you. I need somebody I can trust looking at Superion's books."

"How long do you think this is going to take you?" Scott asked Will.

"I really don't have any idea. You'd better put me down for an extended leave of absence."

Jean, meanwhile, was holding a telepathic conference call. "All right, ladies," she announced, "let's get to work."

Will blinked at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll drive yourself crazy if you do this alone," Betsy pointed out. "With our help, though…"

He shook his head. "I don't want the team caught up in this."

"This isn't a team matter," Ororo informed him. "It's a family matter."

"Showing up with a retinue _would_ impress the board," Xavier pointed out.

Will looked at him. "I don't have a shot in hell of talking them out of this, do I?"

"I'm afraid not."

He sighed. "All right. If I'm going to do this, then I may as well do it right. Let me make a call."

He went down to the War Room with Xavier, Scott, Ororo, Jean, and Rogue. A few minutes later, Kitty and Wisdom were on the screen. _"What's up, Professor?"_ Kitty asked. _"It's a bit late for a social call."_

"This isn't social, Ms. Pryde," Will informed her. "Are you still working as a consultant?"

_"I'm still licensed."_

"Any projects on the burner right now?"

_"Nope."_

"Good. You're hired." He briefly explained the situation. "I'd like you to work with my team from Dublin. If you take the job, I'll introduce you to them when you get here.

"Wisdom, I'd like you to do some intel work on the board of directors and the department heads. I need to know why this company was just dropped into my lap."

_"No problem. Send me a list of names, and I'll start looking for dirt."_

Will nodded. "I'll put you down as a security consultant. We can fine-tune it later. And Kitty… whatever your usual fee is, triple it. Believe me, you'll be earning it."

Kitty nodded_. "I'll dig out my business suit."_

"You'll probably need to buy a few more when you get here. Put it on an expense report, and I'll comp you. The same goes for you, Wisdom. Wear your usual outfit if you want, but make sure it's in good shape. One more thing… you're both licensed pilots, right? Good, that means I just need the plane." He glanced at Rogue. "Remind me to tell Jeff to buy one."

"Right."

"Kitty, I'd like you to call my attorney and tell him you're on the way. Hopefully, he'll have the plane by the time you get there."

_"Okay. I'll call him, then we'll start packing. Want us to meet you in New York?"_

"Probably. Once I have some more info, we'll rendezvous in New York, then go straight to Superion HQ." He rubbed his temple. "Gods, I forgot about a hotel…"

"I'll take care of that," Rogue offered. "As soon as we know where they're based, I'll see about renting out… a full floor?"

"That would be best," he agreed. "Use the card I gave you."

"Right."

* * *

An hour later, Jeff had called back to say that he had located a twenty-person plane that was available for two million U.S. dollars. "Fine," Will told him. "I don't have time to be picky. Just check to make sure that it passed its last inspection. Did Ms. Pryde call you yet? She and Mr. Wisdom are both pilots. They'll check it out before you leave the ground. Oh, by the way, don't be fooled by her age. She's smarter than you and me put together. You'll be landing at Teterboro in New Jersey. We'll meet there, then go straight to Seattle. Is the Crew ready? Good. What about you? Maire has her schoolwork for the next two weeks or so? Good. I can find a tutor for her if I have to. Okay, call me again when you're ready to go. Bring everything with you that you think could possibly apply to this deal. And Jeff? Get some sleep while you're in the air. I guarantee that you won't be getting much once you're here."

"Okay," he said as he hung up the phone, "That gives us about three hours to get ready. I want everybody who's coming to be dressed in business casual, with three or four business formal outfits packed. Tell Bishop he's hired for security. He'll take the high road, Wisdom will take the low." He looked at Rogue. "Which hotel did you get?"

"The Four Seasons Olympic."

"Good. Gods, Jeff's going to go through hell on this…"

"What if we had another lawyer?" Jean asked.

"You know one we can trust?"

"I _raised_ one. Nate."

Will and Rogue both blinked. "_Cable_ is a lawyer?" he asked.

"Harvard grad."

Will put his hand on Scott's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said in a voice that oozed sympathy. "I didn't know."

* * *

Cable, fortunately, was reached quickly by Jean, thanks in part to Cerebro. "The PACRAT will be here in an hour," she announced.

"Good," Will said as he picked out a tie and added it to the pile. "That'll give me time to bring him up to speed before we get to the airport." He looked at Rogue, who was also packing. "You whipped up three outfits for yourself?"

"Green, blue, and brown tweed. That'll let me mix and match."

"Good. Make sure to check things for dust when we first show up. It'll explain your gloves without anything too involved." He inspected the stack of clothes, nodded, and zipped his suitcase shut. "Okay, just two more things: first, transportation to the hotel."

"Already done," Rogue told him. "I rented two vans."

"Good. I'll be back in a minute." He went into the bathroom.

When he stepped out, his goatee had been shaved off, leaving him with a mustache. "This looks a bit more conservative, which should give me an edge with the board. Jean, could you see how everybody else is doing?"

"Already did. They'll be ready in half an hour."

"Good. Could you ask Bishop to see me once he's done packing, please?"

"Sure."

Bishop knocked about fifteen minutes later, as Will was jumping on Rogue's suitcase so that she could close it. "Yes, Will?"

"Do you still have your West Virginia gun permit?"

"Yes."

"It's up to date?"

"Of course."

"Good. I won't be able to bring my gun along for this, so I'd prefer it if you were packing. Since you're security, it'll raise the fewest eyebrows."

Bishop nodded. "I'll bring my Smith and Wesson forty-four. It's small, but it'll still pack a wallop."

"All right." He grabbed a cane from its holder and looked at Rogue. "You ready?"

"Just finished." She picked up her bags, and Will checked the room to make sure that Smoke wasn't going to get trapped inside. "Logan promised to feed her, right?"

"Yep." They shut the door behind them and went downstairs. Jean, Ororo, Betsy, and Bobby were waiting in the parlor. "Got your PDAs, girls?" Rogue asked.

Betsy nodded. "I designed some belt pouches for them, too."

"Good thinking," Will told her. "Now, I have some ideas on how to handle this. Bobby, I'd like you and Cable to work with Jeff." He stopped himself. "Okay, it's civilian names from here on in." He glanced at Rogue. "May O'Hara?"

"It's what Jeff and the others know me as," she agreed. "Besides, it's the name on the card I used for the hotel."

He nodded. "Bish, pick a first name."

"Lucas."

Bobby blinked. "Didn't peg you as a Star Wars fan."

"I'm not. It's really my first name."

"Why didn't you ever say so?"

"You never asked, and I don't particularly like it."

Will gestured for them to stop. "You can kibbutz later. Jean, what name does Cable practice under?"

"Nathan Dayspring."

He nodded, then sighed and sat down. "I feel like a bastard for what I'm about to ask some of you. But it's the only thing I can think of to maintain our cover."

"Image inducers?" Ororo asked. "We already thought of it. And you're right… you do need to maintain a cover for this. What did you have in mind?"

"Well… I was thinking of a change in hair color for you and Betsy, and something to cover Bish's tattoo."

"Some foundation should work for him. Betsy and I will use inducers."

"All right. Can they be recharged onsite?"

"We have an adaptor that can do the job."

"In case I don't get to say this later, I really appreciate you guys doing this."

Bishop shrugged. "I just think of it as job training for the real world. I'll go get that pistol."

A rumble overhead a few minutes later signaled the arrival of the PACRAT. When Bishop returned, Scott and Cable were alongside him. "You made good time," Jean told Cable.

"I made some modifications to the PACRAT. They give it a twenty-five percent increase in speed." He was dressed in a blue three-piece suit, wore wire-rimmed glasses, and was using his TK to carry his luggage beside him. He extended a hand to Will. "Looking forward to working with you."

Will shook his hand, looking up at the older man, who had over a foot of height on him. He glanced at Jean. "What did you feed him in the future? Miracle-Gro?"

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Well, at least it's not a lawyer joke."

"I started those before you got here. Thanks for agreeing to help."

"I'm looking forward to it, actually. Haven't been able to practice for a while."

Will nodded. "You and Bobby will be going over the contracts and the books with my attorney. Bish… sorry, Lucas… will handle security and background checks with Wisdom. I'd like Kitty to work with my team to see what the situation is on the production end. Betsy, I'd like you and Jean to share responsibility on interviewing the employees. I need to know what _they_ think of this situation. Any resentment is just going to cause trouble later. Scott, will you have any problems holding down the fort?"

"If we do, I'll contact you. We've been shorthanded before, though. We should do okay."

"Okay, then. Who wants to drive?"

* * *

They pulled into Teterboro Airport about an hour and a half later, finding that the jet was about ten minutes away from landing. They took out their luggage and waited in the lobby. Jean handed out a stack of legal pads and pens that she had grabbed just before leaving. "Just in case we need to brainstorm on the way," she said.

"Good idea," Will told her.

"Did you bring your laptop?"

"It's on the top of my suitcase." He opened the bag and pulled the computer out.

"Betsy and I will update you as we go with the interviews. Might give you an edge during a meeting."

"You do sneaky very well," he complimented her.

"Who do you think taught _me_?" Nathan said with a grin.

Will snorted as he opened his laptop. "I work with charlatans. Send me a test message."

Jean removed her PDA from its holder and activated it, writing the word 'test' and hitting the 'Send' button. About a second later, a window appeared on Will's screen containing the message.

"Good," Will said. "It'll be more inconspicuous than zoning out for a telepathic chat." He looked at Nathan. "What's your retainer fee?"

He thought about it. "Why don't we say five hundred per day?"

"Nathan!"

"No, Jean, that'd be standard. I'm not being gouged. And I won't take _pro bono_ work, anyway. If a person works for me, I pay them a fair rate."

The airport loudspeaker announced the arrival of their flight, so they picked up their bags and trudged out onto the tarmac.

The plane taxied down the runway towards them, turning just enough to make the door accessible. About a minute later, the door popped open, and Kitty stepped out, waving to them as she lowered the stairs.

Will and Ororo stepped towards the plane as the noise of the engines died down. "How was the flight?" he asked.

"Pretty smooth. Who do we see about fuel?"

"I already took care of it. The truck's on its way. We should be in the air again in half an hour. Does Wisdom want someone to take over for him at the stick?"

"I'd say so, yeah."

"Jean or Besty would be the best choices," Ororo suggested. "They can link with one of us to keep track of the conversations."

Will nodded. "Okay. Let's pack it in."

* * *

Introductions were made while the plane was refueled and its toilet tank emptied. By the time the preflight check was complete, everyone had split up into the groups that Will had created. Will sat with Jeff, Bobby, and Nathan, reviewing the scanty information they had about Superion and its finances. Kitty and the Crypt Crew studied the company's IS system and the technical specs on their products. Bishop, Wisdom and Betsy reviewed the personnel files, making notes on points that warranted further investigation. Ororo and Rogue acted as 'floaters', keeping track of what each group was doing and occasionally relaying that information to Will.

Nuala had offered her assistance to Kitty's group, but her husband had to tell her that it would be a conflict of interest. She instead helped Maire with her schoolwork.

By the time the plane landed in Seattle, they had hammered out a strategy for the next day. They piled into the vans that Rogue had rented and drove straight to the hotel, where they spent a few minutes juggling room assignments.

Will found himself stumped at one point. "Jean, Maire… would you two mind sharing a room?" _I'd prefer it if she stayed with someone who isn't wearing an inducer, just in case,_ he projected to Jean.

_**No problem**._ "I don't mind," she said out loud.

"Me neither," Maire added.

"Good. Why don't we get settled in, then meet back here in an hour for dinner?"

"Where are we eating?" Bobby asked.

"For tonight, the dining room here at the hotel, or just call room service if you want."

An hour later, as they sat down to eat, Jeff motioned for Will's attention. "What time did you want to get started tomorrow?"

"I'd like us to walk in the door at eight A.M. That gives the board enough time to get there by nine, but not enough to do much damage control. I want them to be off-balance when I meet with them."

"Should we all show up at the same time?"

He nodded. "I want it to look like an invasion." He glanced at his watch, then looked at Kitty who was sitting at the next table. "Do you feel awake enough to go shopping for some outfits before you hit the sack?"

"I think so. Should I drag Pete along?"

"My stuff's fine," Wisdom protested.

"Your stuff looks like it was bought secondhand from a stuntman," Kitty informed him.

Will snorted, then turned to the Crypt Crew. "You boys ready to crack some files?"

Harry Zhao nodded. "We bought our crypto software, just in case."

"Good. You and Ms. Pryde can compare notes when you have some idle time. You brought your suits?"

"Yes, sir. Mine's a little loose, though. I've lost weight since I wore it last."

"You can buy a new one on me later." He looked at Nuala and Maire. "What will you two be doing while we're busy?"

"Well," Nuala answered, "I'm working on a project… and _thank_ you for that idea, Kitty. It's going to save me hours of work. Maire has schoolwork to do, and we might go sightseeing later."

"Good. We're all going to be keeping weird hours for the next few days, so you two should just maintain your own schedule." He downed the last of his soda, then stood up. "I suggest that everyone hit the sack early. We'll meet down here for breakfast at five-thirty."

* * *

Moments after Rogue had closed the door to their room, Will collapsed onto one of the beds and groaned. "How long have we been up?"

"About eighteen hours."

"No wonder I'm beat."

"What time should we get up?"

"Better make it four forty-five." He tried to lift his head, then let it flop back onto the bed. "Ugh. I'm not sure I can stay awake long enough to change."

"Just stay there a second, and I'll take care of it."

"Huh?"

"Trust me."

He shrugged and remained flat on the bed, eyes closed. Just as he was starting to drift off, he felt her untie and remove his shoes. Lifting his head up, she saw that she had changed into a light blue body stocking and mask. "Just relax," she told him. "You've had a long day, and you deserve to be pampered a little."

"I'm too tired to argue," he murmured as he let his head flop back down. Letting his muscles go limp, he waited as she stripped him down to his boxers.

Rogue requested their wakeup call, then lifted Will up a little as she pulled down the sheets, covering him as she climbed into the bed. "Let's catch up on some sleep," she advised him as they settled into one another's arms.

* * *

Barbara Griffin was one of those rare people who enjoyed working the graveyard shift. It was quiet, there were no distractions, and nobody cared if you walked around the office barefoot.

As she walked back to her cubicle with her microwave popcorn, she noticed that there were four stretch limos approaching the main entrance. _Must be taking a shortcut to the airport,_ she thought.

She blinked as the limos parked in front of the building. _Okay, maybe they're lost_. Shrugging, she went back to her desk.

Seconds after she sat down, her phone rang. Looking at the display, she saw that it was the reception desk.

Sighing, she tapped the speaker button. "Yeah, Mike?"

"Uh, sorry, Miss Griffin, but I didn't know any other supervisors on duty this early. Could you come down here… right now?"

"Mike, the day shift shows up in half an hour. What's so important that it can't wait until then?"

"Well… we've got a visitor."

"Vendors have restricted visiting hours. You know that."

"This isn't a visitor, Miss Griffin."

"Who is it, then?"

"He says he's the new CEO."

* * *

One shriek and one wind sprint later, Barbara was in the lobby, where she faced what looked like a small army. A slender gentleman in a grey suit looked her up and down. "Miss Griffin, I presume?"

"Um, yes…?"

"My name is Will Riley. As of yesterday, I'm the CEO of this corporation." He raised an eyebrow. "I take it that the night shift enjoys casual attire?"

She looked down at her sweatshirt, jeans, and socks. "Um… yessir."

He nodded, then glanced back at a group of women… all _gorgeous_… who were standing behind him. "Take a note… modify the dress code."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, scribbling at their PDAs.

"Now, Miss Griffin, would you happen to have contact numbers for the members of the board of directors?"

"Um… I can find them."

"Good. Please contact them, and inform them that a board meeting will be taking place at _precisely_ nine o'clock. I will assume that anyone not present at that time does not value their position. Where is this facility's largest conference room?"

"Um… C wing, top floor, room 100."

"Excellent. I'll be waiting for them there." He walked off, his entourage right behind him. She could hear his cane striking the floor as he moved down the hall.

Barbara waited until he was out of sight, then made a mad dash for the phone.

* * *

"Very imperious," Ororo said approvingly.

"Just wanted to set the right tone," Will replied with a smile. "I suspect that the board members will be scrambling within minutes."

Within an hour, several older men and women, looking rather harried, were seated at the conference table. Will had taken advantage of the delay to seat 'his' people at one end of the rather long table, forcing the board members to sit some distance away from him.

Will remained silent as he studied the faces of the board members. He held one hand out to Rogue, who, having been coached beforehand, handed him her PDA. He made a show of studying it, then looked at the board members one by one. He glanced at Jean. _Who's the one with the bad dye job?_

_**Russell Davis. He's the CIO.**_

_I'll start with him._ "Tell me, Mister Davis… why am I here?"

The older man, who wore a brown suit, and who could have afforded to lose a few pounds, looked flustered. "I don't understand the question, Mister Riley."

"Really?" Will stood up with a grunt, leaning on his cane, and started to walk along the length of the table. "I think better when I walk around. I'm sure you understand. Now, when I get I get a call in the early morning hours telling me that a company, in which I have substantial financial interest, has become a questionable enterprise due to mismanagement, I find it imperative to determine the cause of the problem. This is, by the way, a _very_ major distraction for someone in my position."

**_Wait for it…_** Jean sent to the other X-Men.

"So again, I ask you…"

_**Now.**_

WHACK!

Will slammed his cane onto the tabletop beside Davis and leaned forward so speak softly into his ear:

"Why am I here?"

The board members were all sweating now. Taking advantage of their confusion, Will looked at the assorted members of his entourage. "You all know your assignments," he told them. "Keep me posted on your results. Ms. Munroe, Ms. O'Hara, please remain."

As the room emptied, Will went back to his seat at the head of his table. Ororo and Rogue pulled up seats on either side of him and pulled out their PDAs.

"Now," Will said, "shall we begin?"

* * *

Over the next several days, the various teams tore through Superion, Inc. like a tornado. Jeff and Nathan reviewed contracts, while Bobby scrutinized budgets for any discrepancies. Jean and Betsy interviewed employees, while Bishop and Wisdom checked out their backgrounds.

Kitty and the Crypt Crew had what Will considered the most important assignment: looking at the products that Superion had in development. Will had, during his meetings with the board, come to suspect that there were problems with the line that had been announced for release in the near future. He hoped that the skills of his team would be able to discover them, and hopefully find solutions for them.

Rogue and Ororo, who played the roles of personal secretaries to Will, coordinated the efforts of the various groups, and ran interference so that Will wasn't overwhelmed. Despite their best efforts, however, he was forced to spend ten to twelve hours per day either in meetings or reviewing documents, and invariably went to bed exhausted.

"He's getting fried," Rogue confided to Ororo during one breakfast. "He was asleep before his head hit the pillow last night."

"Kitty's not much better, but she's not going to relax until she gets to the root of the problem. She's sure that they're close."

"I hope so. He's starting to lose patience with the board. Can't say I blame him, given the way they've been evading his questions."

"The employees aren't much help, either," Jean said as she walked up to the table and sat down. "They're terrified that we're here to downsize everybody, so they're keeping their mouths shut to save their own jobs. And, given what little information the grunts have about what's going on, I can't say I blame them."

"Think a company-wide meeting could shake things up?" Rogue asked.

"Don't bother."

The ladies turned to look at Kitty, who had rushed into the room. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes bloodshot, but she was quivering with excitement. "We found it," she told them. "Go get Will. He's _got_ to hear this."

* * *

"Okay," a very bleary Will said ten minutes later, "start explaining. And use very small words. I'm too tired to wade through technobabble."

Kitty pulled a sheet of paper out of a file folder and handed it to him. "This is the chip that Superion has developed for the next generation of mobile phones, code named Frontier. It's been announced with a release date six months from now."

Will buried his face in his hands, "It doesn't exist, does it?"

"It exists on paper. The engineers figured that it would take eighteen months for it to go into production. That was six months ago."

"Let me guess. Marketing announced an early release."

Kitty nodded. "The development team is just finishing up their first round of tests. They're still running into glitches. And Marketing already has orders for it."

Will rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What does the Crew think about the design?"

"Harry and David think the design is sound. I agree with them."

"All right. I want you all to take twenty-four hours off, then put everything you've got into eliminating those glitches. Order whatever you need, and charge it directly to me. Pull anyone in the company that you think can help, and assign them to the project.

"Next, I want the name of the jackass from Marketing who got us into this mess. We're going to have a _very_ long talk."

"He's away on vacation," Kitty told him. "I think he wanted to avoid your wrath."

"I'll deal with him later, then. Go take that day off. It applies to Wisdom, too."

Kitty nodded and stood up. "I'll let the rest of the Crew know."

"Thanks."

"Okay," he said after Kitty had left, "I need to know who the execs are on that project. Set up a meeting with them at ten. After that, we're going to take a very hard look at the organizational chart. There's a major disconnect between management and the trenches here, and we're going to eliminate it."

"On that subject," Jean said, "you might want to hold a company-wide meeting. Paranoia among the rank-and-file is getting pretty bad."

"They're worried about being downsized?"

"_I_ would be," Rogue pointed out.

"You shouldn't. I made myself a promise, back when I started in finance, that the people who worked for me would never pay the price for _my_ mistakes. If that meant I lost money, so be it. I'll rearrange things a bit, but I won't fire somebody unless I have cause." He glanced at the clock. "All right. I need time to change. We'll meet in the lobby in half an hour. I'll just get something from McBrugers for breakfast."

* * *

Will's meeting with the Frontier project executives could have been used as a training tape for intelligence agencies. Within fifteen minutes, he had determined that they had known of problems with the project for only a few weeks, just before Will had acquired control of the company. "We've been working on it non-stop," one of the executives said.

"You mean the _techs_ have been working on it non-stop," Will growled. "_You've_ been demanding status reports from them."

"I'm trained in management," the executive protested, "not electronics."

"Then why in the hell were you in charge of the project? Note I said 'were'. The Frontier development team reports directly to me now." His expression softened somewhat. "You're not being fired, Mister Roth. I've looked at your history with the company, and I believe that you were giving your best effort. However, I do believe that your talents could be best used in another area." He paused a moment, lost in thought, then glanced out the window onto the company grounds.

"In fact…"

He brought his attention back to the executives. "Mister Roth, how would you and your team like to take on a project that could make Superion a model for the industry, and save the company a bundle in the process?"

* * *

"It's an interesting idea," Ororo said as they left the meeting, "But do you think it will work?"

"Given where we are, yes I do. I have some other ideas along the same lines, but they're going to have to wait until we have the Frontier problem under control.

"Call everyone on the team, and tell them to take the rest of the day off. I need to decompress before I tackle this reorg, and there's no reason to stress out everybody else."

* * *

Ororo, Jean, Betsy, and Bobby decided to go clubbing in Seattle. Bishop chose to have a quiet dinner. Nathan, oddly enough, had struck up something of a friendship with Jeff, and joined his family at a small restaurant. Kitty and Wisdom kept themselves… occupied… in their room.

Will and Rogue napped for a few hours, then changed into casual clothes and found a small Italian bistro near the motel. Sitting in a quiet corner, they ate in a comfortable silence.

They linked hands as they walked back, and Rogue leaned her head against his shoulder. "Feel better?" she asked.

"Much. Thanks for letting me have some quiet time."

"No problem. I'm amazed you've lasted this long without needing a break."

"So am I." He lifted her gloved hand to his and kissed the knuckles. "I haven't had a chance to thank you for all the help you've been. I'd be a nervous wreck without it."

She giggled. "I can see the headlines when you snapped: 'CEO Roams Corridors with Battleaxe'."

They exited the elevator to find that Kitty was camped out in front of their room. "Finally!" she sighed upon seeing them. "I've been waiting forever for you two to get back!" She jumped to her feet, almost bouncing with glee.

Rogue quirked an eyebrow at her. "I take it you have good news?"

"I think I solved the Frontier problem."

Will opened the door to the room. "How did you manage that?"

"I think I was obsessing too much. I needed something to distract me so my subconscious could work on the problem."

Rogue smiled naughtily. "Would Pete have had anything to do with that… distraction?"

Kitty blushed. "No comment."

"Have you talked with any of the Crypt Crew about your solution yet?" Will asked.

"I haven't been able to find them."

"They're probably still in the red-light district," he said wryly. "They'll be a few hours, at least."

Kitty growled. "I may lose the idea, then."

Will dug through his papers and found a few blank sheets, giving them to Kitty. "Would sketching it help?"

She considered it. "Yeah, it will. Gimme." She snatched the papers from him, grabbed the pen he offered, and started scribbling.

"I'll leave a note for the Crew to find you when they get back," Rogue told her.

"Uh huh," was the distant reply.

Rogue sighed. "She's on Mars again."

"I wouldn't mind that too much," Will commented, "if she weren't in our room."

Rogue thought for a moment. "Check to see if the hallway's clear."

He opened the door and glanced down the hall, then looked back inside and nodded.

"Could you hold the door open?"

"No problem. I'll take care of that note, too."

Kitty didn't even notice as Rogue carried her back to her room, chair and all.

* * *

The Crypt Crew members checked in with Kitty as they came in, and they were soon brainstorming together, finishing each others' sentences and being generally incomprehensible to anyone else. Will simply provided them with a supply of soda and junk food and stayed out of their way.

Finally, at about seven-thirty, Kitty let out a whoop of triumph. "We've got it," she announced to Will. "We're going to have to…"

Will held up a hand. "I won't understand a word of it. How long do you think it'll take to modify it at the production end?"

Kitty looked at the rest of the Crew (she had been unanimously elected to their ranks at one point during the night). "Three or four days?" she asked.

"Sounds right," Harry confirmed.

"Okay," Will told them, "I want you to split up into teams of two. Six-hour shifts, you take a meal break and a nap in between. You'll be less likely to make mistakes, and the last thing I need right now is a basket case. Give me an update before you quit for the day. Send it through an instant message to either Jean or Ororo. Call me immediately if you run into any problems or need materials."

"Got it," Kitty replied. She looked back at the Crew. "Half an hour to wash up and change?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "We'll meet you downstairs."

As soon as Kitty and the Crew had left the room, Will collapsed into a chair. "Oh, that's a _big_ load off my mind. We can start production as soon as they're done with testing."

"Assuming they get it done right," Rogue pointed out.

"They will," he said confidently. "I trust my Crew's judgement, and I trust Kitty's. If they're in agreement, then I'm positive they're right." He yawned. "Oh, great. With the stress gone, my body's going into hibernation mode."

"You need to catch up on your sleep anyway. Let me update Ororo, and then we can hit the sack."

He looked dubious. "I don't know…"

"You gave everybody twenty-four hours off, remember? That includes you, and if you don't include the time you spent shuttling drinks and snacks to the Crew, you've only had about four hours of rest. You won't be any good at the office if you're exhausted."

He sighed. "You're right. Let's update Ororo, and then we can crash until noon or so. We'll grab some lunch, and then you get to decide what we do for the rest of the day."

Rogue grinned wickedly. "That leaves our options _wide_ open."

"I have a feeling that I'll be getting less rest than I had planned."

* * *

After his 'rest' was over, Will threw himself into a series of meetings with both management and production, rearranging things occasionally so that company operations were streamlined. He spent his lunches with the team members, where he reviewed the progress that each of the groups had made.

During the third such lunch, Kitty and Harry swept into the room just as everyone had sat down to eat. "We have an announcement," Kitty declared.

"What's that?" Will asked, putting down his sandwich.

Kitty handed him a small chip. "Meet Frontier."

Will glanced at it. "It passed all tests?"

"With flying colors," Harry confirmed. "We're ready to make three thousand an hour at your word."

"The word is given. Have you two eaten? No? Then sit sown and have something. Wait, call the lab and tell them to start, first." He looked at Ororo. "We'll have that company meeting at nine tomorrow. Send a message to all workstations, and have the copy shop print out enough copies of the materials I sent them this morning. I want those poster-sized reminders for the meeting placed at all of the enterences. Did Roth's team give us an outline?"

"I got it this morning," Rogue told him.

"Good. Harry, I'd like a graphic I can use at the Frontier debut."

"Would a diagram work?"

"That'd be great. Make it something we can import into PowerPoint, if you can."

"No problem."

"Good. You two are near the end of your shift, right? When you're done, go get some rest. You've earned it." He turned to Wisdom and Bishop. "Did you finish that project I gave you?"

Bishop nodded. "Did you want our report?"

"We'll wait until after lunch. It's a discussion that I'd like to keep private."

* * *

Everyone went to bed early that night, and enjoyed the sleep of the exhausted. They were all awake and eating breakfast by six the next morning, and stepped into the office at seven-thirty.

As the employees of Superion filed into the auditorium, they were each handed a file folder and offered a choice of bottled water, juice, or soda (for the caffeine-dependent). Once everyone was settled into their seats, Will stepped up to the podium. He was wearing a dark grey three-piece suit that Rogue thought looked particularly distinguished on him.

"Good morning," he said to the audience. "I believe in being direct, so I'll get right to the point. When I first walked through the front door here, I broke one of my own rules: that I would not get personally involved with my investments. I've since added a caveat to that rule. I'll step in to help when I think that good people are in trouble.

"I'll start by squelching a rumor: there will be _no_, I repeat, _no_ downsizing taking place." He paused for a moment as the employees let out a collective sigh of relief. "Some areas may get rearranged a bit, but no one here will be dismissed without cause.

"Next, I would like to make an announcement that I'm sure you've all been waiting for." He pressed a button on the podium, illuminating the projection screen behind him. "Yesterday afternoon, Superion began production of the Frontier chip. As of this morning, nine thousand have been manufactured and packaged for shipment, ten months ahead of schedule."

The room erupted into cheers and applause. After a few seconds, Will motioned for silence. "I'll be sending this announcement to Wall Street tomorrow morning.

"Now… during my time here, I've seen some things that could stand some improvement, and I've taken steps to address them. I'll give you a few examples.

"Starting tomorrow, we will begin a wide-ranging program geared towards reducing waste and energy consumption. We'll be replacing all incandescent lamps with compact fluorescent bulbs, conference rooms will be fitted with motion sensors to avoid unnecessary use of the lights, and paper towel dispensers will be replaced with air dryers in the restrooms.

"Most importantly, I have commissioned a firm to install photovoltaic panels on the roof of the complex, and several large wind generators on the campus grounds. I've been advised by my research team, headed by Mister Roth, that these expenditures will pay for themselves within four years. In addition, the manufacturing process for Frontier has been streamlined, resulting in a twenty percent reduction in waste products. Our packaging is being switched to one hundred percent post-consumer paper products, and we will, wherever possible, substitute cellulose and cardboard for plastic and Styrofoam.

"Our next topic will be benefits. The health plan is being expanded to include domestic partners, and will now cover complementary care, such as chiropractic and Traditional Chinese Medicine, provided that such treatment is approved by your primary physician.

"Now, I've looked at the company's non-discrimination policy, and it looks okay to me, except for one thing: along with the usual suspects, such as race, sexual orientation, or religious faith, Superion will also not discriminate based upon genetic status. In other words, ladies and gentlemen, Superion is now a mutant-friendly company."

Jeff, who was in the front row, blinked and looked at Nathan, who sat next to him. "He never mentioned that in our meetings."

Nathan kept his face blank. "You think it'll be a problem?"

"Oh, I think it's a great idea. Enforcing it might be tricky, though."

"We'll hammer something out later." He glanced over at Jean, who sat about five seats away. **_Did you know about this?_**

_**First I've heard of it. Think he can make it stick?**_

_**I'm not sure. I don't think it's been tried in the private sector before.**_

"Our next topic is one of practicality," Will continued. "From this point forward, all face-to-face meetings will take place between nine and eleven A.M. After that time, meetings of more than three people will take place via instant messaging. Every large organization I've encountered has become bogged down by too many meetings. This is my attempt to avoid falling into that trap.

"One last matter before we take a break. I'm sure you're all aware of how ridiculous executive pay has become in this field in the past few years. Once the initiatives that I've outlined come into effect, my role in this company will become solely an advisory one. As a result, by salary will change to one based on how much time I spend here putting out fires. I will be paid one thousand dollars per day, not including obligatory events such as board meetings.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'll be honest with you. I didn't plan on running this company. It was sort of dropped into my lap. I have practically no technical experience. I believe, therefore, that the best strategy for me to follow is to step back and let you do your jobs. I will not insult you by micromanaging you. I invested in Superion because I believed in the people who worked here. I also believe that you're capable of keeping your own house in order.

"All right, we'll take a break for half an hour. If you have any questions for me, give them to the ladies by the doors with the PDAs, and they'll relay them to me. I'll try to answer them when we come back."

* * *

Three hours later, an exhausted Will stepped into his limo, followed by Rogue, Nathan, and Jeff. As soon as the door had closed, Will keeled over, dropping his head into Rogue's lap. "Gods, that was exhausting," he said in a weary voice. "I don't think I've ever talked that long at one time before."

"It was a fantastic performance, though," Jeff told him. "You hit all the right notes."

He nodded, glancing up at Rogue. "What sorts of questions did you get?"

"Most of it was about the health plan. There was one man who wanted to know if his partner's children would be covered."

"We'll have to look into that."

"What do we do if somebody tries to fight us on the mutant issue?" Nathan asked.

"We argue that identity as a mutant is equivalent to ethnic identity… predetermined by ancestry and immutable… and thus equivalent to racial identity under the law. Thus, protected under existing civil rights legislation."

Nathan considered that for a moment. "That should hold up in a court. What's next, then?"

"For me, a big lunch and a nap." He thought a moment. "Ask Jean to keep an eye on the value of the stock today, would you?"

"No problem. Oh, Kitty wanted me to remind you that that idiot from Marketing who started this whole mess is due back tomorrow."

Will's response to _that_ was a grin so evil that it frightened everyone there.


	58. Chapter 58

Robert Duesing was tanned, rested, and ready.

A month's vacation in the Cayman Islands was just the thing to charge your batteries, he decided as he pulled into the Superion parking lot. It had cost him a bundle, but the bonus from the Frontier contracts would more than make up for it.

The techies just didn't understand the way business worked, he mused. It didn't matter what you could deliver. It was all about what you could get the customer to commit to. So the Frontier chip didn't exist yet. So what? What was important was that they had buyers for it. They could always upgrade (for a fee, of course) once the thing was ready.

Duesing smiled as he stepped out of his car and walked up to the main door. He was on his way up. He wouldn't be surprised if he was offered a corner office soon.

He stopped walking and blinked, looking at the lawn next to the building. _Are those windmills? Must be something the P.R. people dreamed up. _He shrugged and went inside.

The lobby, he noticed, had been redecorated while he was away. The sculptures had been removed, replaced with an ornamental terraced garden, watered by a small fountain that bubbled merrily. He noticed several more plants as he walked down the halls towards his office.

As he stepped off the elevator, he passed by Keith Roth, from the Frontier Development Group. They had never gotten along, since Roth was way too conservative on the projections for when Frontier would be ready to ship. But that, Duesing decided, was why he stayed stuck with the geeks in the lab.

He pasted on his fake smile. "Morning, Keith. What's the news?"

Roth shrugged. "We've had a few changes. You'll be updated on them by the end of the day."

Duesing groaned internally. As usual, Roth was a wealth of information. "Thanks, buddy. We'll talk later about the Frontier numbers."

As he approached his office, he was stopped by Laura, the department secretary. He had always considered the twenty-four year old blonde to be something of a ditz, but her looks more than made up for that. He had a private bet with himself that he could get her into the sack at the next Christmas party. "What's up?" he asked her.

"There's a meeting in Conference Room F. I wasn't able to pull you off the list. You'd better get there right now."

Duesing grimaced. _God, she's an idiot._ "Okay. Get my messages together for when I'm done."

The conference room was on the other side of the wing, so he was a bit out of breath by the time he got there. The door was closed, so he took a deep breath and went in.

The room was empty except for one man, who sat at the head of the table, doing paperwork. He glanced up at him. "Come in, Mister Duesing."

Duesing blinked. _Do I know this guy?_ Not knowing what else to do, he walked in and took a seat at one of the seats on the side of the table.

The older man signed a paper, then removed his glasses and looked at him. "Let me introduce myself, Mister Duesing. Will Riley. I'm currently the CEO of Superion. I wanted to talk to you about the orders that you contracted for the Frontier chip."

Duesing grinned. _Finally, some recognition!_ "Yes, sir. What would you like to know?"

"Well, I have one general question…

_"What in the hell were you **thinking**, you damn idiot?"_

* * *

Laura, whose office was just outside the conference room, giggled.

* * *

"It is a point of personal pride for me, Duesing, that I have never failed to uphold a business contract. I hold all of the companies that I own to that same standard.

"You took orders for a product that you _knew_ Superion was unable to provide. Tell me, what were you planning on telling our customers when the release date for Frontier came and went without any product?"

Duesing broke into a sweat. "Um… they would have been encouraged to take advantage of the Vista chip. Once Frontier was ready, they would have been offered an upgrade."

"And who would pay for the upgrade? Us or them? It was us, where would the money have come from? If it was them, how were you going to justify charging them twice for the same product?"

"Um… they would. It was part of their service contract with us."

"So we make money short term, then lose all our customers two years from now. _Then_ what do we do?"

He shook his head in disgust. "You know, I spent some time wondering just why you would do something so blatantly stupid. Then I took a look at your contract." He pulled a document from a folder. "You receive a commission for every sale, based on how many contracts you close, regardless of when the product actually reaches the hands of the customer. So, by making our customers commit to an as-yet nonexistent product, you make yourself a good chunk of change."

Riley took the contract in his hands and tore it in half. "You committed fraud, Mister Duesing. As a result, your contract of employment is invalid." He pressed a button on the phone beside him. A _very_ large black man entered the room.

"This is Mister Bishop," Riley said. "He's in charge of security here. Mister Bishop, this gentleman is no longer employed by Superion. Would you be so kind as to escort him off the grounds? Don't give him a chance to pack. We'll mail him his things."

Duesing didn't even get a chance to protest before Bishop lifted him up by the collar of his shirt and started to haul him out of the room.

Riley stopped Bishop with a raised hand. "By the way, Duesing… since you committed fraud, your commissions and bonuses were illegally obtained. Expect a call form my attorneys.

"Mister Bishop… get him out of my sight."

* * *

"Gods, it felt good doing that," Will said later that day, as Rogue gave him a much-needed backrub. "All that aggravation, because of one idiot."

"I was worried that you might get physical with him."

"Why risk the lawsuit? Besides, this was more fun, and will last longer. That idiot almost destroyed a company and threw hundreds of people out of work because of his ambition. Some time serving fries to teenagers just might teach him the real value of a job."

"We can hope so. How much more do you have to do here?"

"Not much. I'll make arrangements with the board for a weekly phone update. Most documents can get sent to me by air pouch, fax, or email. Once I'm fairly certain that the company is out of danger, I'll allow the employees to buy me out if they want." He lifted his head up a bit. "That reminds me… could you get the blue folder from my briefcase?"

"Sure." She floated off of him and hovered over to the chair, pulling out the folder and handing it to him.

He opened it and handed her a sheet of paper. "This is for you. I'm giving one to everybody who helped."

She took the paper, looked at it, and blinked. "One hundred shares of Superion?"

"You helped rescue it. Only fair you share in the profits… and there are going to be _big_ profits from the Frontier chip. Now, I'd like to stick around for a few days longer, so I can cut the ribbon when the windmills and solar panels go online. After that, though, I'd say we're done here, and that we've _all_ earned a few days off. Any suggestions?"

* * *

"Vegas?"

"We could all use some time to laze around, Ororo. This gives you a chance to spend some of what I'm paying you."

"I'd love to join you," Jeff said apologetically, "but Maire's missed enough school as it is."

Will nodded. "We'll arrange a commercial flight for you as soon as I'm done here. Fist off are your shares." He handed each of his 'employees' their certificates. "If there's ever a split, I'll make sure to let you know.

"And here are your paychecks." He gave each of them an envelope with their name on it.

Kitty opened hers, and nearly had a stroke. "Will, I can't accept this."

"Oh, yes you can. You saved me millions in lost revenue. You earned every penny of that."

Wisdom glanced at his check, mentally added it into Kitty's total, and whistled. "We can have quite a vacation with this," he pointed out to her.

"No chance. This gets stashed away for a rainy day."

Nate and the Crypt Crew were paid near-equal amounts, and the rest of the X-Men were paid a flat fee of three hundred dollars per day.

"Your pay will be added to your next paycheck," Will told Jeff. "Let's go arrange that flight."

Once Will and the Riordhans had left the room, Kitty walked over to the other members of the Crypt Crew. "This is way too much money," she told them.

Harry glanced at her check and shrugged. "He paid you twenty-five percent more than us. You did the majority of the technical work, so that seems fair to me."

Kitty blinked at him. "You guys are all rich, aren't you?"

"Well, the tax rates in Ireland are a bit higher than in the States. I'd say that we're comfortably well-off, since Mister Riley manages our stock portfolios, too."

"Then why do you guys live at the Crypt?" asked Rogue, who was eavesdropping.

Harry gave her an amused look. "Think about it. We have free lodging, access to cutting-edge tech, a nearly unlimited expense account, and we get paid for stuff that we'd be doing for free anyway. It's a geek's dream job. Why would we _want_ to leave?"

* * *

Once Will made sure that the Riordhans were safely aboard their flight, he loaded everybody else onto his plane. Jean took the stick, and they landed in Las Vegas five hours later, where they checked into their rooms.

Will allotted two days for the vacation, so they hit the casinos with a vengeance. Will preferred to play the slots, but the ladies gathered a crowd around the roulette table. Nathan and Bishop joined a high-stakes poker game, Wisdom played the horses, and Bobby found a comfortable seat among the blackjack players. The Crypt Crew opted to sample some of the 'entertainment' that was legal only in a nearby county.

As they boarded the plane for the flight back to New York, Will pulled Kitty and Wisdom aside for a moment. "Do you two want to fly back to Scotland, or would you prefer that I just teleport you straight back to Muir?"

They looked at one another, then shrugged. "Teleporting would mean no airline food," Wisdom said. "We'll take it."

"Okay. We'll wait until after the Crew is in the air, just to be safe. And Kitty, don't send out any emails for about a day once you get there."

"Right. What are you going to do with the plane?"

"I haven't decided yet. It might be best to keep it in storage at a hanger near Salem Center, just in case I need it again. I'll discuss it with the team once we get back."

The Crew members were given tickets for the next JFK-to-Dublin flight and dropped off at the airport, with instructions from Will to take at least two days off to recover from jet lag. Once they were out of sight, Will found a secluded corner of the terminal and teleported all of the team members back to the Mansion.

Logan, who was walking through the foyer as they arrived, didn't even bat an eye. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," Jean told him. "Where's Scott?"

"In the kitchen, workin' on dinner."

"What is it tonight?"

"Linguini."

"Works for me," Bobby shrugged.

"You've had a long day," Ororo told Nathan. "Why don't you take one of the guest rooms tonight, then leave first thing in the morning?"

"Not a bad idea," he said after a moment's thought. "Besides, I'm starving."

* * *

Will teleported Kitty and Pete back to Muir immediately after dinner, then unpacked. Heading back downstairs, he found that Rogue was busy talking with Henry, so he grabbed a bottle of juice and went outside. He sat in a chair by the pool and tilted his head back, listening to the crickets as he gazed up at the stars.

"Too noisy for you?"

He glanced over at Nathan, who had just stepped out the door. "That, and too crowded. I needed some time alone to recharge, and it's best to do it now, while Rogue's occupied. That way, we'll have time for one another later."

Nathan nodded in understanding, and took the seat next to Will. "I've been meaning to ask you something, but there never seemed to be a right time while we were busy."

"Would this question have something to do with a certain Egyptian?"

"Yeah. It would." He took a swig from his beer. "You're supposed to kill him."

"That's right."

"When?"

"I don't know. Could be ten thousand years from now. Could be next Tuesday."

The older man was silent for a moment. "I'll be honest… I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Part of you thinks that I'm taking your job, and another part feels relieved that you may not have the responsibility anymore."

"…That pretty much sums it up. I take it you feel the same way?"

"Partly. _I_ think that we represent two approaches towards the same goal. We're contingency plans for one another."

"If one gets taken down, the other takes up the torch. Makes sense, from a strategic perspective." He turned his head to look at Will. "Do you think you're ready to take him down yet?"

Will's response was a shake of his head. "Not even close. And if something _were_ coming up, I'd feel it. It's going to be a while before he and I face one another again. I'll tell you this much, though: as long as I breathe, he'll have a foe to reckon with."

Nathan nodded in approval. "That's all I need to know."

* * *

"What do you have to do tomorrow?" Rogue asked Will as they changed for bed.

"Blackbird maintenance with Logan in the morning," he said, looking at his computer. "Why?"

"I was thinking about helping you with your workshop, if you wanted."

"That's not a bad idea," he decided. "I haven't put any effort into that for a while. I'm not even sure how many bricks I have now."

"We'll figure it out in the morning," she said as she put on a T-shirt. Will was already wearing pajamas, socks, and gloves, so she was taking advantage of the situation.

"Could you turn the fan on?" The Salem Center nights had become quite warm recently, and Will found that a fan provided the dual benefits of a cool breeze and white noise.

"Sure."

Will pulled on a mask and slid into bed. As Rogue joined him, Smoke jumped onto the bed and meowed insistently for attention.

"What's wrong?" Rogue crooned as she stroked the cat's head. "Did you miss us?" She took the enthusiastic purring as a yes. She wriggled until she lay with her back against Will's chest, and Smoke curled up against her stomach. "You comfy?" she asked Will.

"Absolutely," he said, as he wrapped an arm around her. "You?"

"Couldn't be better," she replied, turning off the light.

"Love you."

"Me, too."

* * *

After breakfast, Will joined Logan in the hanger, where they essentially took apart the engines of Blackbird Blue, cleaned every part, then reassembled them. Once Logan confirmed that the engines were working within tolerance, he let Will go for the day.

Once they were finished with lunch, Will and Rogue headed to Will's workshop, where they took an inventory of the finished bricks. "Enough for the kiln _and_ the forge," Will said approvingly. "That means I can put the anvil in place… once I dig out the fire pit."

"Okay. Show me how you want the bricks arranged for the kiln, and I can lay down the first course."

Twenty minutes later, Will had finished emptying the fire pit. Rogue took the log that Logan had cut earlier, lowering it into the pit. After Will tamped in some dirt to set the log in place, she placed the anvil atop it, immobilizing it by driving some railroad spikes into the log.

By the time dinner was ready, the kiln and forge were nearly complete. Will coated the inside of the kiln with refractory, and they both went inside to clean up.

"Did you get everything done?" Logan asked them as they sat down to eat.

Will nodded. "The masonry work's done. I'll start work on some workbenches and tool cabinets tomorrow." He turned to Xavier. "I'll be pitting in an order for a solar and wind system tomorrow, too."

"How large are you making it?"

"Five kilowatts, I think. That should be more than enough for what I'm planning."

"What _are_ you planning?" Scott asked, curious.

"Small, rechargable power tools, compact fluorescent bulbs, some other tools that I still have to build, and a small stereo. Nothing too complicated."

"You still need to lay out the electrical, right?"

"Right. I'm figuring three outlets, max."

Scott was silent for a moment. "Could you use a hand with that? I'm pretty good with wiring."

Will blinked. "All right. Let me put the order in and get some specs from the company before we start anything."

* * *

"Well, _that_ was a surprise," Will said as he sat down in his easy chair. "I didn't think Scott would be interested in what I was doing."

"I've got a feeling that he's trying to make up for how he's treated you before," Rogue told him.

"Could be. You have any ideas on what to do tonight?"

"A movie?"

"Any preferences?"

"Well, we never did get around to seeing _The Wicker Man_."

"I bought a bootleg copy of it, actually. The retail version got cut to shreds. Why don't you make some popcorn, and I'll pull out the TV?"

They were about three-quarters of the way through the movie when the alert klaxon rang out. Jumping off the bed, they scrambled into their shoes, and Will teleported them to the War Room.

"What's up?" Rogue asked Warren, who was manning the station.

"Not sure yet. There's a lag on the transmission." He pressed a few keys. "Here we go."

Janet van Dyne appeared on the screen. _"We've got a situation in Queens that we could use some immediate help on."_

"What happened?" Scott asked as he entered the room.

"_There's an old office building that was scheduled to be imploded tomorrow. Something went wrong while the demolition team was placing the charges, and some of them went off prematurely. Instead of imploding, the building is about half-collapsed, and the half that's still standing is leaning towards an apartment building. We could use your telepaths to locate any survivors, and the rest of you to try to save the other building." _

"Give us the location," Scott said. "We'll be there in…" He glanced at Will, who nodded. "Ten minutes."

"_Right. Wasp out."_

"Okay," Scott said once the screen went dark, "Jean and Nate will locate the injured. Rogue, you, Bobby and I concentrate on protecting the apartment building. Will, can you transport the injured out of the wreckage?"

"It'll depend on if they're conscious or not."

"Why's that?"

"I'll need telepathic help to see through their eyes. At the very least, I can move the rubble to another location and take off some of the weight."

"Okay. Hank, get some medkits together. Everybody at the front door in ten minutes."

They appeared in Queens ten minutes later, finding a scene so chaotic that their arrival was barely noticed. Hank turned to the nearest victim and began assessing their injuries. Jean, after a moment's telepathic search, located the Avengers, and motioned for the other X-Men to follow her.

They found Van Dyne in a heated discussion with a city engineer about weight loads. She sighed with relief as she noticed their approach. "Okay, now we can get somewhere. Could you please explain to this guy that we have ways to keep things from shifting around as we work?"

Will looked at the engineer, who appeared to be in his early fifties. "Will removing material from the top down cause any problem?"

The man thought about it for a moment. "It would depend on how you move it."

"It won't actually _move_. It just won't _be_ there anymore."

The engineer blinked. "Okay. It shouldn't be a problem, then. I wouldn't remove too much at a time, though. It might make some of the material underneath shift from the pressure change."

Will nodded, then looked at Jean and Nathan. "Keep track of the locations and condition of the injured. If it looks like things are about to collapse, I might have to try a blind teleport." He looked back to the engineer. "Where to you want me to put the stuff I move? I know you'll need to investigate the cause of this later."

Thinking, the engineer looked down the street. "I'll get the parking lot at that Italian joint emptied. We'll let you know when it's clear."

Scott nodded. "We'll concentrate on shoring up the wall for now."

"Right." He walked away to talk to a police officer for a moment, and the pair of them ran towards the restaurant.

Rogue, Scott, and Bobby moved over to the remaining wall. Bobby constructed a thick wall of ice in front of the building next door to serve as a shield.

Scott looked at Rogue. "Any suggestions?"

"You cut the wall up into manageable chunks, and I ferry them down."

"Sounds good." He put one hand to his visor. "A square meter sound good?"

"Works for me. Let me clue Iceman in." She flew over to Bobby and explained the plan.

"No problem," he told her. "I'll just rebuild the wall as it's damaged."

Nodding, she flew up to the top of the damaged wall and gave Scott a thumbs-up. Scott focused the lenses of his visor for a narrow setting and ran a beam along the joists between the top two floors. After a few seconds, he cut off a fairly large patch of rubble. He shut the visor, cutting off the beam, allowing Rogue to catch the wreckage as it fell. As she lowered it to the ground, he began another cut.

Jean and Nathan, meanwhile, had located the injured workers. "Do you want to us to give you a mental tag for them?" Nathan asked Will.

"You can't ," Jean informed him. "His shields are too strong right now."

"_Just let me know when I'm getting close,"_ Will requested. _"I'll try to remove enough for you two to lift them out with your TK."_

The engineer returned a few minutes later. "It's clear," he told them breathlessly.

Will nodded, then turned his attention to the pile of rubble in front of them. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal started to vanish.

Slowly, Will managed to make his way through the wreckage. "You're close to one," Jean told him at one point.

"_How close?" _he said through gritted teeth.

"About a meter forward, and forty-five degrees down."

"_How's he facing us?"_

"He's curled up into a ball, head at ten o'clock."

"_Anybody below him?"_

"No."

"_Okay. I'm going to 'port him, and everything around him, for three cubic meters. The instant he shows up, I want you to catch him, and Cable to get the debris off him. Got it?"_

"Got it," Jean and Nathan said together.

"_On three, then. One. Two. Three."_

As soon as the pile of wreckage appeared in the air, Nathan began lifting it up and off the injured man. Jean supported the worker, slowly lowering him to the ground.

Nathan checked the man's breathing. "Damn. There's fluid in his lungs. _Medic!_"

"_Where's the next one?"_ Will asked Jean. _"We have to get them out fast."_

Repeating the process, they were able to free another six workers. As the medics worked, a police officer approached them. "The sign-in log shows ten men working this job."

Jean gave him a sad look. "There isn't enough of them left to recover."

Nathan nodded in grim agreement. "It looks like they were at the epicenter of the blast. You'll probably have to rely on DNA to identify them."

The officer cursed. "Well, you saved us hours of work, and probably saved the rest of them. We owe you big."

"Just doing what we could to help," Jean told him.

"_How's the rest of the team doing?"_ Will asked her.

She telepathically conferred with Scott for a moment. "They're almost done. They'll meet us here in a minute."

About three minutes later, Scott, Bobby, Rogue, and Henry joined them. "That wall is stacked into a pile," Scott told the officer. "That should make it easier to clean up."

Van Dyne came over to them. "Thanks for the help. Were you planning on heading straight back?"

"Unless you need us for something," Scott replied.

She thought for a moment. "Reed Richards is planning some security upgrades to the ISHEC network. We may as well get them out of the way."

Scott nodded. "Sounds good. Mind if we hitch a ride on the Quinjet?"

"Not at all."

After some more consultation with the police, both teams boarded the Quinjet, and landed soon afterwards at Avengers Mansion.

"Welcome back, Ms. Van Dyne," Jarvis said as everyone stepped out.

"Hi, Jarvis. Is the rest of the team back yet?"

"They arrived just under an hour ago. They are currently in the main conference room."

"Thanks." She looked back at the X-Men. "Follow me, guys."

They walked down a hallway decorated with assorted commendations from the United Nations and various national governments. Van Dyne stopped at one door and underwent a retinal scan. The door opened a heartbeat later.

Captain America, who had been speaking to the gathered Avengers, turned towards the newcomers. "How did the rescue go, Janet?"

"Three dead before we got there. We were able to save the rest, and the building next door, thanks to our help." She nodded back to the X-Men.

"We were glad to lend a hand," Jean said.

"Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Summers. How have you been, Hank?"

"My life is as bountiful as ever, Captain."

"Glad to hear it." He turned back to the table. "We'll finish this later, since we have guests." The Avengers nodded and stood up, each politely greeting the X-Men.

Will firmly shook hands with Iron Man, Tigra, Hawkeye, and the Scarlet Witch, but became visibly flustered upon meeting Thor.

"Well met, good sir," the Asgardian said, shaking Will's hand.

"Um… it's an honor, sir."

"I have heard tell of your conflict with Apocalypse. You gained a mighty victory against him."

"Only after first being defeated myself. And my victory was very dearly gained." He blinked. "Would you excuse me for a moment? I'll be right back." Thor nodded, and Will walked over to one corner of the room. He closed his eyes, muttering to himself.

Rogue walked over to him. "You okay?"

"The Chorus just went bonkers on me, and it's getting a little confusing."

"Why's that?"

He inclined his head towards Thor. "Part of me wants to burn him for blasphemy, and another part wants to grab a hammer and mead horn, then start playing Bang Bang Maxwell on everybody."

* * *

Scott was given a copy of the upgrades a few minutes later, and the X-Man gathered together for the teleport back to the Mansion. Van Dyne, however, motioned for them to wait.

"I just remembered something. Jean, Rogue… could I talk to you privately for a minute?"

The ladies looked at one another, then nodded, following Van Dyne out of the room. When they returned a few minutes later, all three were trying to keep from giggling.

"We'll let you know what the response is," Rogue told Van Dyne as she slipped an envelope inside her jacket pocket.

"No problem. I'd like to make the arrangements as soon as possible."

"We'll take care of it," Jean assured her. "We're ready to go now," she said to Will.

* * *

The next morning, as Will read his copy of the _Times_, he noticed that the breakfast table was oddly silent. Glancing up, he saw that Rogue, Jean, Betsy, and Ororo were all looking at him with identical, speculative expressions.

"Um… am I in trouble?" he asked.

Ororo looked at Jean. "You'd never have guessed it, would you?"

"I have to admit, it was a surprise to _me_."

"He certainly doesn't look the part," Betsy added.

By this point, Will was starting to sweat. "What's going on?"

"You made the List," Rogue told him with a sly grin. She handed him the envelope she had received the previous day.

Will quirked an eyebrow at her, then opened the envelope, removing a letter. He unfolded it, and went completely ashen a moment later.

"Well?" Rogue prompted him. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"_Please_ tell me that this is a joke," he requested in a quiet voice.

"We can't do that," Jean told him with a mischievous look.

"Please?" he squeaked.

Bobby, who was watching the exchange with fascination, lost patience at that point. "_What's_ not a joke?"

Rogue gestured to Will. "He made the Van Dyne List."

Bobby blinked. "Top or bottom five?"

"He's Number Two on the Top Five, just under Blade."

Ororo plucked the sheet of paper from Will's hands and read out loud. "'What do you think of this for a caption? 'Finally, somebody who doesn't try to look like a steroid ad! Exquisite tailoring, muted colors, practical materials… and not a stitch of spandex! It's Sam Spade meets Duncan MacLeod, with a splash of James Bond thrown in for flavor. Timeless!''"

Will thudded his head on the table. "Just shoot me now. Please."

"We can't do that, either," Rogue informed him. "You still have to do the photo shoot."

"The WHAT?"

"She needs a picture for the article. She'll make sure your face is pixelated. We set up an appointment for next week."

Bobby had never heard Will whimper before.


	59. Chapter 59

"Oh, good. You made it!" Janet Van Dyne said as Rogue entered the room, with a very reluctant Will in tow.

"It took some persuasion," Rogue admitted.

"What kind?"

"That's classified," Will said firmly. "Let me get this over with so we can go home. Where's the photographer?"

"You're looking at her. I taught myself how to do fashion shoots years ago." She picked up a rather expensive digital camera and motioned him over to a bluescreen set up against one wall. "I'll add an appropriate background later."

"I should warn you that I _hate_ posing for pictures," he said as he straightened the lapels of his coat and fiddled with his bolo tie.

"Not a problem. Just think of me as an opponent, and try to project the mood that I'm asking for."

He considered that for a moment, then nodded. "What do you want to start with?"

About half an hour later, Van Dyne had taken several dozen shots of Will, showing him in combat poses, as well as a more mysterious side 9glowing eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat, hands at his sides in a 'bring it on' pose).

He was startled for a moment when his hat was snatched off his head, then smiled wryly as Rogue draped herself over him, plopping the hat onto her own head and giving the camera a silly grin. Van Dyne just smiled and kept taking pictures.

"That should do it," she said a few minutes later. "Want me to burn you a CD of the files?"

"Please do," Rogue asked. "I can use them as blackmail material later."

They reviewed the photos, and Van Dyne chose about a dozen shots that they all agreed were among the best. "You'll pixelate my face?" Will asked.

"Blurring it will look better. I might make the final print look a bit more antique, like a daguerreotype."

"That _would_ look nice," he said after a moment's thought. "Send me a copy of the final product. Was there anything else you needed?"

"Nope. I use verbal contracts with the costumed set, since so many of us have secret identities."

"How do you get pictures of the villains?"

"Depends. Sometimes I borrow photos from other magazines. I get the Spider-Man shots from the Daily Bugle, for example. If no stock photos exist, I send word through the grapevine that I want to shoot somebody. Nine times out of ten, we can agree to meet on neutral ground, with the understanding that there's a truce while we're shooting. I've never run into any problems, and sometimes I get to see another side of the people." She laughed. " I once had the most _girly_ conversation with Titania."

Will blinked. "I _really_ did not need that mental image."

* * *

Upon returning to the mansion, Will changed into jeans and a shirt, then got started on lunch. Rogue joined Betsy in a light aerobics session in the gym.

After lunch, they spent an hour or so in Will's workshop, where Will laid down a few more courses of bricks for the forge, then started setting up a woodshop. He had gathered a respectable collection of old, but still perfectly functional hand tools wile perusing various antique shops, and he was drawing up plans for a workbench.

"What's your first project going to be?" Rogue asked him.

"I haven't decided yet. I think I'm going to start by building some more tools. I want to get the windmill and solar panels up first, though."

"When are they due in?"

"About a week, from what the dealer told me. I should probably set up the electrical system up first, though. Is Scott doing anything right now?"

"He wasn't scheduled for anything. Give me a sec to buzz Jean." She concentrated for a few seconds. "She says he'll be over in a few minutes."

Scott stepped into the building a few minutes later. "Did you need something?"

"Are you up for a building supply run?" Will asked him. "I want to see if we can get the wiring done."

"What do you need?"

"I figure a fuse box, some conduit, heavy gauge wire, some light sockets, and at least two quad GCFI outlets."

Scott considered that "That shouldn't be too hard to set up. You want to come along, Rogue?"

"Why not?"

They managed to finish setting everything up by dinnertime. The job was made much easier by the fact that simply bent all of the conduit into shape by hand.

Will looked at their work approvingly. "All I need now is a cabinet to hold the batteries once the system is set up."

Scott nodded. "Are you doing the installation yourself?"

"No, I don't know enough about it. I'm better off paying for experience, and I'd rather not have lead-acid batteries exploding on me."

"That _would_ be a bit inconvenient," Scott agreed.

* * *

Over the next few days, Will spent the majority of his free time in his workshop, constructing a workbench. After gluing twelve two-by-sixes together and clamping them tightly, he drilled two countersunk holes through the whole lot, running threaded rod through the holes and using washers and nuts to secure them. He then cut lengths of six-by-six to serve as legs, bolting them onto the table and linking them together with mortise-and-tenon joints. He then planed the top surface absolutely flat and level, drilled holes through the work surface at regular intervals to hold clamps, and installed a machinist's vise at one end. He finished by giving the bench a light coat of linseed oil.

Logan, who had been watching the progression of the work, nodded appreciatively at the finished product. "Not a bad start," he told Will. "What's next?"

"For the woodshop, a carpenter's horse and some sawhorses. After that, I'll start on the foundry, which I'll use to build the machine shop."

"You should teach Jubes and the other kids some of this stuff."

"… That's not a bad idea…"

* * *

"You want them to take _shop class_?" Emma asked incredulously.

After cleaning himself up, Will had called Sean Cassidy at the Massachusetts Academy and announced that he would be over in a few minutes. He arrived on the dot and dropped the idea into his and Emma's laps.

"I want them to learn something about balance, Emma. I think it would be good for them."

"What would?" she snorted derisively. "Building birdhouses and ashtrays?"

Will's eyes flashed in irritation for a moment, but he composed himself. He pointed to a marble-topped table standing against one wall. "That's a Queen Anne, right?"

"Yes."

"Ballpark figure on its value?"

"About four thousand dollars."

"If you bought one today, it'd be worth about one thousand. A skilled carpenter could make six or seven in a week. That's an income of three hundred thousand per year.

"Carpenters, metalworkers, electricians, and masons all had a hand in constructing most every part of this house, Emma. All of those jobs require skill and training, and they're far more essential for maintaining a society than data management technicians, synergy analysts, or whatever the hell the flavor of the month is in the job market right now."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Emma, but you hit a sore spot, and I can't just let it pass. Sometime in the past fifty years or so, American society decided that doing physical labor was somehow inferior to working in an office. So now, we have a lot of people stuck behind computers, moving electrons from one place to another, who'd be a lot happier producing something tangible with their own hands. Meanwhile, our manufacturing capability is sent overseas, where that kind of work is still valued, and we're at a major economic disadvantage."

Emma was quiet for a moment. "You're right," she admitted, "and I apologize. What were you planning on teaching in this course?"

* * *

"You'll be learning the basics of carpentry, metalworking, and ceramics," Will told the members of Generation X an hour or so later. "As you progress, you'll learn how to build your own tools and shop equipment. You'll be assigned projects… some useful, some for fun."

"What sorts of useful ones?" Angelo asked.

"One idea that _I_ had was a shed for all of the supplies in the garage," Emma offered. "That would give us enough room for an extra car."

"That'd be nice," Jubilee mused. "How often would we meet?"

"I was thinking two or three times a week," Will told her. "I'll teleport you all down to Salem Center, and we'll hold class in my workshop."

"What about once it gets cold?"

"I plan on installing a wood stove before then."

"What should our attire be?" Monet asked.

"Jeans, and work boots if you have them. You'll be getting dirty, so don't wear anything that you'll regret getting stained. I'll provide you with work gloves, and you'll wear eye and ear protection as needed. That's the first rule of the class: you follow all safety precautions that I deem appropriate, regardless of what your powers may be. Anything else?"

"When do we start?"

"Tomorrow morning at eight, Mister Thomas. Your first lesson is Scrounging One Oh One."

* * *

They spent about an hour of the next morning at a scrap yard in Long Island, gathering pieces of cold roll steel and aluminum scrap that Will judged as possibly useful for shop projects.

"That was your first lesson," Will told them as he paid for their purchases, which constituted a rather sizeable pile. "This stuff would have cost about eight times as much if we'd gone to an industrial supply house."

"Ouch," Jubilee muttered. "Why'd it get thrown away, then?"

"These pieces are too small to be used by the manufacturers in their products, so they sell the scrap to recoup some of their loss."

"What were all the engine pistons for?" Angelo asked.

"Raw material. The particular grade of aluminum that they're made from is excellent for casting."

**_You said we'd be building our own tools,_** Jono remarked. **_When does that start?_**

"Next class. What we'll be doing is splitting you up. Three of you will do metalwork, and three woodwork." He finished placing everything in the car and shut the trunk. "This afternoon, I'll give the first demonstration."

_**Of what?**_

"The first tool that you'll be building."

* * *

"This is a foundry." Will pointed to the object sitting on the floor in front of him.

"Looks like a popcorn can," Paige commented.

"That's because the basis for it _is_ a popcorn can. You'll be making one just like it. Here are your materials." He handed them another can, which held a small pipe, a cardboard tube as tall as, but slightly narrower than, the can itself, and a bag of concrete mix. "Take a good look at the one I made, and figure out how I did it. You can use any of my hand tools, but the only power tool you can use is the drill. I'll give you an hour to figure out how I did it, starting now."

The students talked amongst themselves for a few minutes, then rummaged through Will's drill bits until they found a hole saw. They drilled a hole into the side of the can, a few centimeters above the base, then drilled a similar hole, at the same height, in the cardboard tube. Placing the tube inside the can, they ran the pipe through both holes, then centered the tube inside the can. After mixing the concrete according to the directions, they poured it into the space between the tube and the can, then poured more into the center tube to serve as a floor.

"Very good," Will told them when they were done. "You managed it with time to spare. Once I help you make a lid for this thing, I'll show you what we'll be doing with it once the concrete dries."

"So _this_ is why you wanted me to repair one of Lee's old hair dryers," Angelo remarked.

Will had pulled out his own foundry for the demonstration. He placed a meter-long length of PVC pipe over the protruding end of the foundry's steel pipe, then placed the other end of the pipe on a brick to elevate it slightly. He slipped the nozzle of a hair dryer into the open end of the pipe.

"Why do you elevate it like that?" Paige asked.

"It's possible that some metal can run down into the bottom of the foundry. I don't want to wind up with hair dryer flambé."

"I can understand that. So what are we melting the metal in?"

Will opened a cabinet, pulling out a grey object, about two decimeters tall and one wide, that looked somewhat like a measuring cup without a handle. "This is a crucible. This particular one is made o silicon carbide, which is the bast material to use when melting aluminum." He rummaged through the cabinet again. "We'll transfer it to and from the foundry with these tongs, and put it in this holding shank when we're ready to pour. Now, on to the demonstration." He put his goggles on, and the students followed his example.

He placed about a dozen charcoal briquettes into the foundry and lit them, using a scrap of newspaper as tinder. Once the coals were aglow, he placed the crucible atop them. "Could one of you turn on the hair dryer on, please?" he asked as he placed the lid on the foundry.

Jubilee did so, and the sudden blast of air quickly created a small tower of flame that streamed from the hole in the center of the foundry lid. After a few minutes, Will used a metal hook to remove the lid, and motioned for everyone to look inside. The crucible was now glowing red-hot.

"Now we're ready to add the metal," he told them.

"Why didn't we do it when we started?" Angelo asked.

"Because if the metal heats up before the crucible, things go boom."

"Ah."

Using a pair of barbecue tongs that he had appropriated from the grill, Will placed a few scraps of piston into the crucible, added more charcoal to the fire, and replaced the lid. "We'll give that about ten minutes to melt."

Ten minutes later, Will lifted the lid, revealing that the pistons had melted into a grey goo. "Do we pour now?" Angelo asked.

"Not just yet. First, we want to separate any non-aluminum scrap from the mix. I'll be right back." He walked into the workshop, returning a moment later with two objects: a small, paper-wrapped package, and an object that resembled a large perforated spoon. He held up the paper. "This is filled with aluminum flux, which helps the melt to separate the pure metal from the junk, also known as dross." He took hold of the paper with the tongs, and pushed it into the bottom of the molten metal. The melt bubbled for a few seconds, and some sediment floated to the top. Will used the skimmer to scrape it out of the melt. "That stuff could have contaminated our casting and weakened it. That could be a disaster at a critical moment, especially if the casting is being used with high-speed machinery."

**_Are we casting something today?_** Jono asked.

"Not yet. Right now, we're just going to make a few ingots, to make later castings easier. The size we'll use will allow us to use three ingots to make a full pound of pure melt."

_**What's the mold for that?**_

"Believe it or not, a cupcake pan."

Angelo retrieved said pan from a cabinet, and Will removed the crucible from the foundry, then made everyone stand a safe distance away while he poured, filling the individual cups with liquid metal. He motioned for someone to turn the hair dryer off.

"A very important tip," he said once the motor cut. "Never leave metal in the crucible to cool. It'll expand again when you reheat, and you'll be out one crucible. Always have a spot to pour your excess melt."

"How long will this take to cool?" Jubilee asked.

"About an hour. We'll concentrate on woodwork for the rest of this class."

* * *

Will's lessons were designed to complement and build on one another. The first few woodworking projects that he assigned were for facsimiles of parts that were later cast in aluminum to begin construction for both a metal lathe and a wood lathe. The skills of wood chiseling and planing were shown to be very similar to metal scraping, which the students used to ensure that their metalworking equipment was precisely aligned and error-free.

As the students became more accomplished, they were given projects which increased in difficulty. After they built the obligatory birdhouse (and, at Will's suggestion, a batbox), they worked on a coffee table, to replace one that Penance had accidentally gouged. Will arranged the lessons so that the table's legs could be produced with the newly finished wood lathe.

The class was given a day off so that they could observe as Will's workshop was outfitted with solar panels and a wind turbine. The installer happily explained his work as it went along, and the students (who were joined, in this instance, by Will, Rogue, Scott, and Emma) were given a short lecture on the principles of renewable energy. Emma was sufficiently impressed to consider adding solar panels to the garden shed to provide lighting once it was finished.

That day's class ended rather late, so Will, after checking his schedule, decided to give himself the next day off. He got approval from Ororo, who volunteered to take Rogue's shift in the monitor room.

He looked around for Rogue as he entered their room. "Rogue?"

"I'm in the bathroom."

"Anything you don't want me seeing?"

"No, come on in."

He nudged the door open a bit and blinked as he entered. "Um... not that I'm complaining, but is there a reason that you're topless?"

"It's my monthly self-exam."

"Oh. Can't argue with that, I suppose." He was silent for a moment. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you okay if I watch?"

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have asked you to come in. Why bother asking, anyway? It's nothing that you haven't seen before."

"True, but some women might be a bit self-conscious about it. And my reason is more practical than you might think. I might notice any changes before you do."

"Good point." She raised her right arm and checked under the armpit for any swollen lymph nodes. A few minutes later, she was finished.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Not that I could find. Moria'll probably give me a mammogram at my next physical, anyway."

"We both have tomorrow off. Do you want to do anything?"

"Nothing comes to mind. We'll figure it out in the morning." She went into the bedroom and searched through her drawers for a nightshirt.

"Why don't you skip it tonight?" he suggested. "I'll cover up."

"You sure?"

He nodded. "You keep covered all day. You should be letting your skin breathe at night." He changed into his usual sweatpants and turtleneck, then put on a mask, socks, and thin gloves.

She nodded. "I'll be out in a minute, then." She ducked back into the bathroom. Her nude form stepped out soon afterwards. "I wanted to wash up a bit," she explained as she turned on the fan.

He nodded. "At least we get the bed to ourselves tonight." He inclined his head towards his chair, where Smoke lay curled up in a ball.

Rogue drew back the covers, and they spooned together in the bed. Will draped an arm over her, and she snuggled back against him as she switched off the light.

* * *

They spent a good portion of the next morning simply lounging around, Will having easily convinced Rogue to sleep in. After a late lunch at Harry's they went to New York, where they spent a few hours in Chinatown. Rogue picked up a few nice pieces of jade jewelry, while Will spent some time in consultation with an herbalist, purchasing several items for both culinary and medical purposes. He also acquired, at the shop owner's urging, a set of acupuncture needles.

"Do you know how to use those?" Rogue asked him once they were outside.

"Some time in the Chorus should tell me what I'll need to know. If not, I can always ask Stephen."

"That's true. Want to stop off at his place and see if those gizmos he was making for you are ready?"

"May as well, since we're in the general area."

Strange turned out to be occupied in a meditation when they arrived, but Wong gave them a box which he said contained both the items and instruction for their use. "Simply call if you have any questions."

"We will. Mister Wong. Thanks for the help."

Will teleported them both back to the Mansion, where they found that the rest of the team was just getting up from dinner. "You two have fun?" Logan asked.

Rogue smiled and nodded. "What's on the schedule tomorrow?"

"You have breakfast duty," Ororo informed her. "Will has a Danger Room session at eleven."

"Solo or team?" Will asked.

"Solo, for now. We may modify it later. There is also a full Blue Team training session at four."

He nodded. "That should give me a chance to test out Stephen's talisman."

After putting his cooking herbs away in the kitchen, Will acquired a small sonic sterilizer from Henry for his acupuncture needles. After placing the needles in it to run through a cycle, he opened up the box from Stephen Strange.

Inside were five items: a carved cylinder, about the size of a soda can, and what appeared to be two matching stands. They all seemed to be made of silver and onyx. His bolo tie was also there, as were two sealed envelopes.

"Is everything there?" Rogue asked as she came in.

"Looks like it." He opened the envelope labeled 'Amulet' and read the contents aloud. "'This will respond to touch, or to the code word that we agreed on. It will respond only to your voice, or to Rogue's. I can add other voices later, if you feel the need. When the wards are down, the color of the 'X' will change from black to silver.'"

He took the bolo tie in his hands, looking at the slide for a moment, then put it on. _"Cealgair,"_ he said.

The center of the 'X' glowed brightly, and a sheen flowed from the center outwards, like mercury coursing over a flat surface.

"My turn," Rogue said. _"Cealgair."_ The silver retreated to the center of the amulet and vanished.

"Nice," Will commented. "Remind me to put it on the windowsill to charge tonight."

She nodded, then gestured at the cylinder. "What about this thing?"

He opened the other letter. "Says to put one of the stands on the floor, and the other on the ceiling directly above it."

She looked around the room. "Why don't we put them by your easy chair?" She walked over to that corner, placing one of the coaster-sized stones at her feet. Floating up, she placed the other one against the ceiling. It stuck, then slid itself along the wall a bit until it was centered with its twin. "Now what?"

He looked at the instructions. "Says to place the cylinder on top of the bottom one." He did so.

All three parts glowed for a few seconds, and the cylinder slowly floated up, suspending itself about a meter above the floor.

Rogue landed and looked over his shoulder at the paper. "Next step?"

"I make myself comfortable and try to move it." Moving his easy chair so that it faced the cylinder, he sat down and focused his concentration on its lower half. _"I'll try to raise it a bit,"_ he said as his eyes started to glow.

_WHAM!_

_"...Okay. First thing tomorrow, I find out how to lower the sensitivity on this thing."_

"Good idea."

_"Next,"_ he said as he looked up at the ceiling, _"we get a drywall repair kit."_


	60. Chapter 60

Will had just changed into his uniform, and was about to enter the Danger Room, when he was stopped by Ororo and Jean. "We're holding today's session outside," Ororo told him.

"Any particular reason why?"

"I have a theory that I want to test," Jean said.

They went outside, then entered into a small grove of trees near the lake.

"You and Ororo are both sensitive to natural forces," Jean explained once they found a fairly clear spot. "I want to see if you can use that to play off of one another."

Will and Ororo thought about that. "It's worth considering," Will decided. "What do you have in mind?"

"Remember when you drew power from the lightning?"

"That's not the sort of thing you forget, Jean."

"I want to see if you can draw off lightning that Ororo summons, or if it has to be occurring naturally."

Will stepped away from them, then looked at Ororo. "Don't make the bolt too powerful," he requested. "I don't want to be supercharged all day long."

Nodding, Ororo took a few steps away from Jean. Her eyes went totally white, and a small arc of electricity danced between her and Will.

Will flinched slightly as the bolt contacted him, and his eyes began to glow. After a few seconds, he motioned for her to stop. "That's enough."

Ororo grounded herself, letting the charge sink into the earth. "How do you feel?"

"If you'll excuse the pun, wired. Now I need to figure out a way to bleed this off."

"Can you project it out?" Jean asked.

He thought for a moment. "Maybe. Let me try something."

He spread his legs apart until his feet were centered with his shoulders. Raising his arms above his head and out to his sides, he looked up and concentrated. Streams of energy appeared, focusing on a point in the air about half a meter above his head.

"Can you do anything with that?" Jean asked Ororo.

She studied it for a moment. I think so. Wait a moment." She reached towards the glowing ball of energy, and a stream of electricity traveled into her palm, through her body, and back into the earth.

Jean noticed that both Will and Ororo were somewhat flushed and breathless as the energy died down. "Okay, I've found out what I needed to know," she told them. "See you in the Danger Room later, Will."

Will nodded and walked off. Once he was out of earshot, Ororo let out a deep breath and leaned back against a tree. "What's wrong?" Jean asked her.

"Apparently, there is a somewhat… dualistic component to Will's magic. The exchange of energy between us had an… unexpected effect."

"…Are you saying…?"

"I am _saying_… that I could kill for a cigarette."

* * *

The Blue Team had just entered the Danger Room for their training session when the alert klaxon rang out. They ran down the hall to the War Room, where Henry activated the monitor. He blinked as a face appeared. "Good afternoon, Colonel Fury."

The image looked at Henry. _"It's been a while, McCoy. Wish we had time to chat."_ Fury's eye turned to Scott. _"I'll make this quick, Cyclops. A SHIELD helicarrier went down in Mongolia, in an area about twenty miles north of the Chinese border. The Chinese are still pissed at us over our capture of one of their sleepers, so they're refusing to help with any rescue efforts. We have to go overland, bring out all of the crew, living or dead, and remove all data that the carrier's system had in its memory. We'd appreciate any help you could give us, because it's going to be a bitch of a job."_

Scott nodded. "We can be on our way in an hour. Will, you…"

"_Negative on that, Summers. Riley stays behind."_

Will blinked. The others howled in protest. Fury stopped them all with a raised hand. _"This has nothing to do with you personally, Riley. My lab geeks told me what you do to electronics. The carrier uses experimental, extremely sensitive tech. If you get anywhere near it, it'll be useless, and those agents will have risked themselves for nothing."_

Will looked unhappy about it, but he nodded. "I understand." He looked at Ororo. "I can shuttle you back here to rest. Raise me on the comm, and I'll open a Door." He turned to the screen. "Is that acceptable?"

Fury nodded. _"As long as you're not physically here, things should be fine."_

Ororo stepped forward to stand beside Henry. "Professor Xavier left this morning for a meeting with Val Cooper in Washington. He isn't due back for another day or so."

"_He can be of more help **in** Washington, actually. We're short-handed right now because of this, and he can help run interference with any nosy politicians. Who's with him?"_

"Bishop."

"_Good choice. I'll assign our Washington detail to help him and Val out. We should have our South Korean detachment in place by the time you get to the rendezvous site. They'll take orders from you until our primary units can get there. I'll tell them to expect you in an hour. Fury out."_

Scott turned to the others before the screen had completely faded out. "Hank, Betsy, get anything from the lab that's not nailed down and pack it for transport. Everybody else get the stretchers, and then change into uniform if you're not already in it." He looked at Will. "You're going to have to handle security while we're gone."

Will straightened up and nodded. "I'll keep this place under lockdown. I'll leave a channel open, too. Call me when you're about to drop, and I'll get you back here for a hot meal and a nap."

Ororo nodded. "Good. Everybody report to the conference room in forty-five minutes."

* * *

"Promise me that you'll be careful over there," Will asked Rogue as she changed into her uniform.

"It's a rescue operation, not combat," she assured him, "and we'll have SHIELD backing us up. Don't get too worried."

"When you're not nearby, I always worry."

They arrived at the coordinates that Fury had given them, finding that the SHIELD detachment had already set up a command center. A middle-aged, but still, fit, man stepped out from under a tarp and approached them.

"Major Andrew MacLeod," he said to Scott as he shook his hand. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"No problem," Scott replied. "What's the situation?"

"We're as close as we can get by Humvee," he said as he inclined his head towards the crumbling hills in front of them. "Any closer is going to take a chopper. The only problem there is that the Chinese have SAM batteries just inside their territory, which places the choppers in their sights."

Scott looked at Rogue and Jean. "Take the Humvees over the hill and place them on level ground. We'll climb over and load the gear, then move out. How many men have you got, Major?"

"Only ten, I'm afraid. Most of the military presence here is either South Korean or U.S. And I need to keep at least three people here to man communications and coordinate things."

"All right. Once you assign those men, we'll get going."

Rogue and Jean moved quickly, placing the vehicles near a trail that looked passable. A few minutes later, the SHIELD personnel were ready to leave.

Once the group set out, Jean, Rogue, Warren, and Ororo formed an aerial diamond around the convoy. The rest of the tem was split among the Humvees. Scott and Major MacLeod agreed that each of the X-Men would pair up with a SHIELD agent once they reached the crash site.

Rogue's communicator beeped at one point, and she opened the channel. "Rogue here."

"_This is Storm. Contact base and appraise them of the situation."_

"Roger that." She tapped her communicator twice, opening a channel to the Mansion. "Rogue to Base."

"_Base here,"_ Will's voice said. _"Status?"_

"We're about thirty clicks from the target. Estimated ETA one hour."

"_Confirmed. Contact us on arrival, and relief supplies will be sent to your location."_

"Relief supplies?"

"_Dinner."_

She smiled. "Got it. Any chance you could feed our escort, too?"

"_How many?"_

"Seven."

"_No problem. We'll have something ready for them."_

"Confirmed. Over and out."

* * *

Warren's eyesight allowed him to be the first to see the wreckage of the helicarrier. _"What condition does she appear to be in?"_ Major MacLeod asked him.

"Well, the rotors are a total loss. The hull's taken damage on the right side, and the nose is pretty mangled."

"_Any signs of survivors?"_

"I'd have to get lower to see."

"_Not yet. Wait until we're closer. If there are any hostiles down there, you'd be making yourself a target."_

"Roger that."

* * *

The Humvees reached Warren's position about ten minutes later. Henry and Betsy helped erect a triage tent, while Major MacLeod and Scott paired together the X-Men and SHIELD agents.

Rogue was paired with a large, muscular, crew-cut blonde who introduced himself as Staff Sergeant Andrew Davis. Rogue smiled when she recognized his accent. "My goodness, Sergeant, what's a nice Alabama boy like you doing here?"

"I could ask a Mississippi belle like you the same question. The short answer is that I'm from an old military family."

"While I'm just your average action junkie. What's the S.O.P. for this situation, Sergeant?"

"We find or make an entrance, then do a room-by-room sweep. You have any night vision gear?"

"'Fraid not."

Davis reached into a pocket on the side of his rucksack and pulled out a pair of goggles, handing them to her. "The interior rooms probably don't have any power."

"Do we have a map of the inside?"

"The Major has one. He'll feed it to us through the goggles. You'll see a map superimposed over your field of view. It'll track your movement, and show you exactly where you are."

Rogue turned as Scott called her name. "Yeah, Cyclops?"

"Come over here for a second."

She walked over to where Scott and Major MacLeod were studying the schematics of the helicarrier. ""Did you need something?"

"Do you think you could punch all the way through the skin of this thing, given enough speed?"

She looked through the schematics, then indicated an area within the helicarrier where the hull was thinnest. "This area would be easiest. What's the outer hull made of?"

"Foamed aluminum," the major told her, "about half a meter thick."

She considered it. "Have Iceman freeze the metal so that it's a bit more brittle. Hitting it at just below Mach One ought to do the job."

The two men looked at one another, then nodded. Scott relayed the plan to Jean, and soon Bobby was approaching the helicarrier on an ice slide.

Rogue flew off until she was about five miles away, then turned around and sped towards the helicarrier at top speed, while Jean telepathically helped her stay on target.

It took her an eyeblink to break through the carrier's decks and cone out through the other end. She slowed down, took a few seconds to catch her breath, and returned to Scott's location.

Scott and Logan widened the hole so that two people could pass through easily. They then entered the carrier, glancing around the room. "This one's empty," Logan told them.

"Okay," MacLeod said. He handed some small canisters out to everyone. "Infrared marking paint," he told them. "Once you're done searching a room, spray some on the floor just inside the doorway. It'll keep us from covering the same ground twenty times."

"Good thinking," Scott said approvingly. "Everybody team up with your partners. You find a body, live or dead, call for an assist. We'll cover one level at a time. Let's get started."

MacLeod looked at his watch, then spoke into it. "Note for log: entered structure at oh one hundred GMT."

Rogue blinked, then slapped herself in the forehead. "I _forgot!_"

"Forgot what?" Scott asked her.

She didn't answer, choosing instead to activate her communicator. "Rogue to Base. You can send your package now."

"_Location?"_ Will's voice asked after a moment.

She turned towards an open area. "You have my coordinates?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Three meters south-southwest of me."

There was a flash, and a pile of paper lunch bags appeared on the ground, a jumbo-sized drink cooler beside it.

"Thanks, Base. Rogue out." She turned to the others. "Everybody grab something on your way in."

* * *

The search was grueling, both physically and mentally. While the carrier had landed right side up, everything that wasn't bolted down, and some of what was, had been thrown into disarray by the force of the impact, forcing them to climb over an obstacle course to get into a room, then move everything to search for the crew.

Logan found the first of them, grimacing when he saw that the young woman's temple had been crushed against the edge of a shelf. She was probably dead before she hit the floor, he thought sadly. He looked at his partner, a young man who had introduced himself as Sergeant Vasily Rurikovich. "Better call it in."

The sergeant nodded, then pulled his microphone to his mouth and gave their location to Major MacLeod. "He'll send a pair of med techs in to pull the body out. He has the coordinates, so he wants us to move on."

Logan nodded and stood up. "That a Vladivostok accent I hear?"

"Very good. Most people miss it. I've lived in Saint Petersburg since I was fourteen, so I've lost most of it."

"That was a long move," Logan said as they entered the next room.

"My father was promoted, and became a teacher at the Naval Academy." The sergeant stopped.

"_Mat_. Another one."

* * *

The vast majority of the people they found had died of crash-related injuries. The few survivors were unconscious, and had been in small, enclosed areas of the carrier, where the close quarters had prevented them from building up momentum during the crash.

A clearing just outside the ship was set up as a makeshift morgue. Bobby kept the area cold enough to prevent decomposition of the bodies until they could be removed.

The X-Men were split into three shifts, one of which was brought home by Will to get eight hours of solid rest and a good meal. Will continued to provide food for the SHIELD personnel as well, giving the departing shifts insulated carafes of soup and coffee along with the bags of sandwiches and fresh fruit.

After five days of sifting through wreckage, they located the computer's memory storage. It took another two days for the technicians to remove the hard drives that contained the data they needed.

A team of engineers looked at what was left of the engine room to determine the cause of the crash, and sealed the reactors until a hazmat team could be brought in to remove the cores.

Ororo and Scott ere pulled aside by Major MacLeod while the shifts were switching. "I was told that we found out what caused this. You want to sit in on the meeting?"

A few minutes later, they sat in the military-issue tent that MacLeod had set up as an office. They were joined by a young man who was introduced as Lieutenant Rahim Trivaldi. "Lieutenant Trivaldi joined us after he finished his stint in the Army Corps of Engineers," MacLeod explained. "He's one of our best. What do you have for us, Lieutenant?"

"It took us longer than I would have liked," Trivaldi admitted. "We went in thinking that it was a software problem… something that affected the navigation protocols. That turned out not to be the case. The root cause was mechanical in nature."

He unrolled what Scott had thought was a blueprint. It turned out to be a flexible, touch-activated LCD screen. Trivaldi laid the screen on the table and activated it, bringing up the schematics for the helicarrier. He zoomed in on the housings for the rotor cylinders. "The rotors are cooled and lubricated by what's essentially a high-tech axle grease. We found extremely high amounts of contaminants in the grease."

"What sort of contaminants?" Ororo asked.

"Carbon residue, carbon monoxide, PCBs… basically, a hodgepodge of industrial wastes. They gummed up and added abrasive grit to the grease, reducing its effectiveness. Friction built up in the shaft, and the components finally gave out."

"Would this have happened suddenly?" MacLeod interjected.

Trivaldi nodded. "The same as if your car engine seized up."

"Any idea where the contaminants came from?" Scott asked.

"I have a theory, but I'll need to gather some data on wind patterns first."

"Let's hear it, anyway."

"My guess is that the contaminants came from inside China. There's practically no oversight on the industry there, and pollution controls are almost unheard of."

"That may explain why they refused us access," Ororo mused. "They didn't want to implicate themselves in anything."

MacLeod nodded in agreement. "How is the hazmat team proceeding with the reactors, Lieutenant?"

"They'll be loaded onto a C-5 transport by twenty hundred hours local time. We've outfitted the transport with a lead storage chamber, so the risk is minimal. We'll be flying the things straight to Yucca Mountain for repair and reprocessing. I think that we'll be able to use them on either the replacement for this bird, or for two aircraft carriers."

"Very good, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

MacLeod turned to Ororo and Scott once Trivaldi had left the tent. "I think that my people can handle the rest of this operation. You and your team can head out whenever you're ready."

"What was the final count on casualties?" Scott asked.

MacLeod sighed. "The complement for this class of helicarrier is one hundred sixty-five. So far, the count is one hundred thirteen dead, twenty-three injured, and the rest unaccounted for. At this point, nobody else we find is going to be alive." He thought for a moment. "I'm going to tack Trivaldi's final report onto mine, and make sure that the techs find a way to avoid a repeat of this."

Scott nodded. "We'll get going, then."

* * *

Ororo sent a mental update to Betsy, and the X-Men soon gathered together for the teleport home. They shook hands with their SHIELD partners, and turned towards the site where Will would pick them up.

"_Atten-HUT!"_

The team spun around, finding that the assembly of SHIELD personnel was standing at attention, presenting them with a crisp military salute.

Major MacLeod stepped forward, handing Ororo a box emblazoned with the SHIELD insignia. "These are from the men, Storm. A lot more of our people would have been lost without your help. It's our way of saying thanks."

Opening the box, Ororo found a set of enameled pins. They bore a design which combined the black-on-red 'X' logo and the eagle seal of SHIELD.

"Officially, you were never here," MacLeod continued. "Unofficially, we owe you one."

Ororo smiled and shook the major's hand. Stepping back, she tapped her communicator. "Storm to Base. We're ready to come home."

* * *

They appeared in the complex underneath the Mansion, right next to the locker rooms and showers. "Good thinking, Will," Bobby muttered.

They all washed up (they had all realized, years ago, that one advantage of having a Shiar geothermal power tap is that you _never_ run out of hot water) and changed into their civvies.

Logan stepped into the monitor room as they made their way upstairs. "We probably have to reset half the security protocols. I just want to see what needs to be done once I wake up."

"Good thinking," Scott said. "See you in the morning."

As the elevator was ascending to the residence levels, Ororo's communicator beeped. She removed it from her pocket and tapped it. "Yes?"

"'_Roro," _Logan's voice said,_ "I need you and Cyke back down here… **right now**."_

* * *

"Will? Can I speak to you for a moment?"

Will looked up from his sandwich and blinked at Ororo. "Of course. Is there a problem?" Ororo noticed that he was slurring his words slightly.

"There's a team matter that I haven't had a chance to discuss with you yet. Why don't we go to Charles' office?"

Ororo shut the door behind her as they entered the office. Will blinked when he found that Scott, Jean, Henry, Logan, and Rogue were already in the room. "Is something wrong?"

"Will," Scott said, "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want a straight answer. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

"When's the last time you got any sleep?"

Will was silent for a moment. "I need to know something before I answer that."

"What's that?"

"How long ago did you leave on the mission?"

**_Don't answer that,_** Jean sent to Scott. **_He'll collapse the moment he finds out._**

"It's… been a while, Will. Why didn't you get any rest?"

"Didn't have any relief."

"Will," Ororo said, "Listen to me very carefully. You're relieved. I want you to wash up, and then I want you to sleep yourself out. Do you understand?"

He nodded, then turned towards the door. Rogue noticed that his walk was somewhat unsteady. She looked at Jean, who nodded.

Will was too disoriented to even say anything as the two women placed his arms over their shoulders, supporting him as they left the room.

"Rogue may need help with him," Ororo said. "I'll be back once he's settled into bed." She left the room.

Scott looked at a printout which Logan had handed him earlier. It gave a record for the past seven days of the security checks, which were designed to be manually updated every fifteen minutes.

Every single one of the checks, over their absence, displayed Will's security code.

"He kept himself up the entire time," he murmured. "How?"

"Pure willpower, probably," Logan suggested.

"I'd have to agree," Henry said. "He never left the grounds, and none of the stimulants from the infirmary have been touched."

Scott digested that. "Why in the hell would he do it?"

"He was the only one here," Logan suggested. "And if his powers flared while he was asleep, no one would be around to fix things."

Scott rubbed at a temple. "I can't decide whether to be impressed or horrified. What's this going to do to him, Hank?"

"I don't know. But if sleep helps him recover from injury, then it's reasonable to conclude that deprivation of sleep could hurt him somehow. We can only wait and see."

* * *

Ororo entered Rogue and Will's room to find that Jean was supporting Will with her TK while Rogue undressed him. "Could you turn on the shower, 'Roro?" Rogue asked.

"Of course." After doing so, checking to make sure that the water was fairly hot, she went down the hall and took a metal stool from Henry's room. She placed it inside the shower once she returned.

While Jean moved Will so that he was seated on the stool, Rogue changed back into her uniform leotard, and Ororo stripped down to her underwear. Working together, they quickly scrubbed Will down and washed his hair. He was, by that point, too incoherent to even notice what was happening.

Once Will had been toweled dry, they laid him in the bed. Rogue cradled his face in her hands. "Will, listen to me. You can rest now. I want you to sleep. Sleep."

His head went limp, and his breathing became soft and regular.

The three women watched in horrified fascination as, over the next few minutes, Will's face and body became almost frighteningly gaunt and wrinkled, until he appeared to be in his mid-sixties.

"Should we have Hank insert an I.V.?" Jean asked.

"He tosses and turns a lot when he sleeps," Rogue said. "He'd probably rip it out. I'm going to get to sleep myself, and see if I can talk to him while we're dreaming. I'm exhausted, anyway."

"So am I," Ororo confessed. "We'll talk with him once we've all recovered." She stood up and headed towards the door. "Sleep yourself out, Rogue. _I_ plan on doing so."

Jean followed Ororo, shutting the door behind her as they left. Rogue changed out of her leotard, replacing it with a body stocking and mask, then laid beside Will amd drew the sheets over them both. She was asleep within seconds.

* * *

Xavier and Bishop returned early the next morning. Scott and Ororo barely said hello before locking themselves in Xavier's office with him for the better part of an hour.

Xavier shook his head when they were done. "I know that Will feels the need to push himself, but this is just disturbing. Where is he now?"

"He and Rogue are still asleep." Ororo told him, "and I suspect that he'll remain asleep for several days yet."

* * *

The next few days were, thankfully, quiet, since none of them were in any condition to deal with trouble. They preformed the minimum work needed to keep everything running, but little beyond that.

Will awoke only once during the next three days, and that was only at the insistence of Rogue and Henry that he eat something. His recover was slow, even after the rest, and he tired easily for about a week. At one point, Bobby asked him why he wasn't healing as quickly as usual.

"The damage occurred gradually," was the response. "Any recovery will be the same."

Rogue did what she could to encourage his healing process. She made sure that he ate high-protein, organic meals, and called Stephen Strange for ideas on alternative therapies. At his suggestion, she bought a book on shiatsu massage, and gave Will a full-body rubdown each afternoon.

She entered their room for one such session to find that he was in the midst of applying acupuncture needles to his body. "Are you in pain?"

"No. I want to try to stimulate my energy field. I might try some moxibustion later, if I don't start showing more improvement soon."

She blinked. "Please repeat that. I'm positive I misheard that one word."

"Moxibustion. Basically, I stick herbs on the ends of the needles, then burn them so that the particles from the smoke enter my bloodstream."

"Oh. Does Hank know about that?"

"I'll let him know before I do anything."

He sat cross-legged for about fifteen minutes, after which he removed the needles, placing them in the sterilizer. He stretched his arms above his head and stood on tiptoe, then slowly bent at the waist. "I think my range of movement's improved."

"Looks like it," she agreed. "You feeling better?"

"Quite a bit," he said as he put on a T-shirt.

"You sure? Good," she said as he nodded. She turned around and shut the door.

When she turned back towards him, her expression was one of fury. "What in the hell were you _thinking_?" she demanded as she stalked towards him, hands balled into fists at her sides.

Will's rudimentary survival instincts kicked in, and he backed away until he hit a wall. "Um… excuse me?"

"Don't even _try_ to play dumb! You know _exactly_ what I mean. Why did you push yourself that far?

"Why did you take on so much work? You could have just tossed a few MREs through a Door, or had one of us come back to relieve you, or just said that SHIELD could feed us for once! You could have asked the Professor to send Bishop back here so you could get some sleep!

"But no… you had to go the hardest, most difficult, most self-destructive route you could _possibly_ have taken! You had to push yourself to your absolute limit… and push your healing abilities to _their_ limit in the process! I had to watch, yet _again_, while you took days to knit yourself back together!

"I want to know… what could _possibly_ have made you think that putting yourself through that kind of hell was an even remotely good idea?"

"Because this was the one place where I could have been of any use!" he snapped.

That stopped her short. "What?"

"Do you have any idea how _humiliated_ I was? After all the training, all the work, to be told 'Stay away. We don't trust you to keep a lid on your own powers'? I've been busting my ass, frying my own brain, and the best I can do when there's a real emergency is to be a glorified _caterer_!"

"Fury had good reasons for keeping you away."

"Do you think that makes it any easier? How do I know that I won't get left behind the next time Lilandra needs a hand? Or when we have to go to Astroid M, or to see the Inhumans?"

"You don't," she replied. "We're all left behind at one point or another. It's frustrating, but you learn to live with it."

She backed up and let him sit down in his desk chair. "Please, Will. _Never_ do anything like that again if you can possibly help it."

He was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry, Rogue, but I can't promise you that." He raised a hand as she started to object. "Let me explain my reasons before you say anything, okay?" At her reluctant nod, he continued.

"The simple fact is that I can take more punishment, over an extended period of time, than any of the other X-Men, with the possible exception of Logan. So, in certain situations, I'm going to be the best person for a job that might be very dangerous. So, I can't promise you that I'll never do that to myself again. But I _can_ promise you that I'll never do it _needlessly_."

She thought about that for a moment. "I guess that'll have to do for now." She sat in his lap. "I'm sorry for yelling."

"No need to be. You had every right to be upset." He scratched her back lightly. "You on duty tonight?"

"Nope. We both have dinner tomorrow, though, if Hank gives you his okay."

"Feel like a nap, then? Maybe we'll go out later."

"Okay. We'll see how you're feeling, though."

She stood up and started to undress. She had combined a flesh-colored body stocking with short boots, a skirt, and a sleeveless top, so she simply removed the outer garments. Will, meanwhile, slid out of his jeans, leaving himself in a T-shirt and boxers. He set the alarm while she put on her mask, and he got into bed first so that she could settle her head on his chest.

"I'm still mad, y'know," she murmured as he wrapped an arm around her.

"I know."


	61. Chapter 61

Rogue awoke as the majority of the Mansion's residents began to stir. She rolled over to shake Will awake, only to find that she was alone in the bed. She blinked, then looked towards the bathroom. Empty. Sighing, she rolled out of bed and got dressed.

After a quick consult with Logan, she walked over to Will's workshop, where she found him tossing wood into the forge. "You were up early," she told him.

"I didn't want to wake you up. You looked too cute."

"Sure you didn't just want to avoid another argument?"

"We can always continue that later." He sighed at the look she gave him. "Look, I think about this sort of thing better if I have something to do with my hands. It let's my brain run on autopilot for a while." He shrugged. "It's a guy thing, okay?"

"I can understand that. I've seen Scott bury himself in the Blackbird whenever he and Jean have an argument." She looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Making some tools for the forge." He tugged on a rope that had been tossed over a rafter and attached to the bellows. "This should be a pair of tongs by the time I'm finished with it."

She nodded and sat down in a chair. "You planning on continuing your classes anytime soon?"

"Maybe. I'll see if Emma can cut the kids loose for an afternoon later in the week."

Using a pair of linesman's pliers, he pulled the bar out of the coals. He placed the dimly glowing metal on the anvil and picked up a flat hammer. Using light taps, he slowly began shaping the bar, twisting and flattening it. After making a duplicate of the piece, he used a punch to strike the holes for the rivet that held the two halves together. After peening the end of the rivet, he quenched the entire assembly.

"Why were you just tapping it?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be quicker to hit it harder?"

"It would, but that gives me less control over the finished product. The scenes in movies where someone is just pounding away at the metal may look dramatic, but it's not the way a real blacksmith would do things."

"What's the next lesson for the kids?"

"Carpentry, I think. I'll come up with a project that teaches them how to use different kinds of joints... maybe something with some dovetails." He looked around the shop. "I want to add a few things in here, too."

"Why not? You have the slave labor, so you may as well take advantage of it. Anything I can help with right now?"

"I wanted to start work on that table I promised Jean." He went over to a makeshift table he had set up, using a piece of plywood and two sawhorses. "Feel like going to a lumber yard?" he asked as he picked up a set of plans from the table. "I want to use antique wood if I can."

"Sure. Let me tell Logan that we'll be going."

* * *

They drove out to some farmland west of Salem Center, where Will had located a company that demolished old buildings, then made an additional profit by selling the salvaged building material. An hour or so of browsing produced enough wood for the project. Will chose boards that he felt had sufficient 'character'. He decided on yellow pine, to match the white pine construction of Scott and Jean's kitchen. After borrowing a magnetic sensor to make sure that there were no hidden nails, will paid for the boards and loaded them into the school's van. 

Once they returned, Will sorted through the boards, deciding where each one would go in the project. A few minutes later, he was happily working away with a jackplane, smoothing out one of the boards and leaving little curls of wood on the floor of the workshop.

Jean came by about an hour later. "Is this my table?" she asked.

"It's going to be," Will told her. "What do you think of the color?"

"Looks nice and warm." She glanced at the plans. "The top can come off?"

"I'll bolt it into place once it's inside the house."

"How much room will there be inside the bench?"

"Enough to store some tablecloths. Do you want wheels on the base?"

"It'd be nice."

"Consider it done."

* * *

Will did all of the work by hand, until a point came where he felt he had to cave in to the modern world. He used a router to carve a curved edge onto the tabletop. 

The table, when completed, was a work of art. Will had connected the timbers of the tabletop with bow tie joints, which he inlaid with dark cherry to contrast against the yellow pine. The bench portion was hand-dovetailed, with brass fixtures. Will even lined the interior of the bench with cedar, to keep moths away from Jean's linens. He was quite proud of the finished product, and fashioned a branding iron, which he used to burn the letters _W.R._ onto the underside of the bench seat.

The Academy students, when they saw the still-unvarnished table, were very impressed. "This'd be great for a first apartment," Jubilee decided. "You can just roll it against a wall when you need the room."

"Are you going to stain it?" Paige asked Will.

"No. Jean likes the color as-is, so I'll just use mineral oil to enhance the grain of the wood, then give it a few coats of polypropylene." He covered the table with a tarp and moved it into one of the stalls. "On to today's demonstration: basic blacksmithing."

Will demonstrated the techniques needed to construct several basic metal tools, such as chisels and axe heads. He then made several blades for the hand planes that the students would be building as their next project.

The class was dismissed at three-thirty, since Will and Rogue had to cook dinner. He ran up to wash and change while she cut up the meat for an oven casserole. By the time he came down she was already boiling water for noodles.

The dinner, consisting of beef stroganoff, tossed salad, and homemade peach sorbet for dessert, was a hit. Will sat down in the parlor afterwards to catch the news, and Rogue soon joined him, resting her head in his lap.

Bobby entered the room while a commercial was on. "Well, you two sure look comfy," he commented as he flopped into a chair.

"This is a bad thing?" Rogue asked him.

"Not in the least." He watched the TV for a few moments. "I've got a favor to ask you," he admitted.

"What's that?"

"My mother's been bugging me to visit. I finally caved and said I'd come over for dinner on Saturday night. I could use some moral support."

Rogue thought back to the argument she'd witnessed the last time she was in Bobby's home. "I thought your dad had mellowed a bit since his heart attack."

"He has, but with my dad, 'mellow' is a relative term."

"You and he don't get along?" Will asked.

"My dad's... a bit of a bigot. We've never really been on good terms since my mutation manifested. We patched things up a bit after he had his attack, but it's like we're starting our relationship over again. We usually wind up arguing whenever I visit."

Will nodded. "See if you can wrangle up an invite for me, too. I have some ideas on how to handle things."

* * *

"Well," Rogue whispered to Bobby, "at least your dad isn't arguing with you." 

He was, instead, arguing with Will.

It was a fairly friendly discussion, actually. It was simply a very animated one. Will had asked Bobby, on the way to his parents' house, a few questions about his father. Bobby recalled that William Drake had done quite a bit of work on the house when he was younger. Will simply made a comment on the elder Drake's work, and the discussion rapidly segued into various aspects of construction.

While the two men argued, Bobby and Rogue helped Maddie Drake with the preparations for dinner. As Rogue peeled potatoes, Bobby caught his mother up on the latest events at the school.

Will popped into the kitchen at one point. "Need any help?"

"No," Bobby told him, "we're almost done."

"Not quite," Maddie said. "You can show him where we keep the good dishes, Bobby."

A few minutes later, the china and silverware were laid out on the table. Bobby pulled out a Pilsner glass for his father, and wineglasses for everyone else.

Once they sat down at the table, William turned to Rogue. "I wanted to wait until we were all together before I said this. The last time you were here, I was horribly rude to you. I apologize for that."

Rogue blinked. "Apology accepted. To be honest, though, I'd forgotten all about it."

"I couldn't," William admitted. "I deserved every word that you told me. Being stuck in a hospital bed for a few days gave me plenty of time to think about them."

He turned to Will. "I didn't get a chance to ask. What's your mutant power?"

"Actually, Mister Drake, I'm not a mutant."

William blinked, then looked at Bobby. "Doesn't that violate your bylaws or something?"

"Will's making a career out of being an exception to the rule. He's got issues with somebody the X-Men have fought before."

"Who's that?"

"... Remember that spaceship I used to live on...?"

* * *

"They took that well," Rogue said dryly as they drove back to Westchester. 

"Actually," Bobby admitted, "I'm amazed they dealt with it as well as they did."

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Will apologized. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

"It's not your fault. They said they wanted a full explanation. And my dad _did_ demand proof. Thanks for cleaning that up, by the way."

He shrugged. "I figured that bleeding into the tub was the polite thing to do."

* * *

Will's Danger Room session the next morning was a solo effort, with Henry presiding at the control station. "What am I in for today, Hank?" 

"I thought that a combination of target practice and calisthenics would be a good idea."

"All right. How are we going to do that?"

A few seconds later, Will was dodging laser fire from a Sentinel.

_I had to ask..._

* * *

"What's with the limp?" Bobby asked Will at lunch. 

"Took a shot in the leg. It's still healing. It's just bruised," he assured Rogue. "Should be fine in an hour or so."

The lunch was, as usual, a casual affair. Will motioned to Xavier as everyone was getting up. "Can I bend your ear for a few minutes?"

"Of course. My office?" At Will's nod, they went down the hall.

Once the door was shut, Will's expression became very serious. "I have a proposition for the Institute."

"What kind?"

"Ask Scott, Ororo, Logan, Jean, and Bobby to join us."

Once the requested individuals had entered the room, Will turned to Xavier. "Lock the door, please."

Xavier blinked, but complied, touching a button on the underside of his desk and activating the electromagnetic lock.

Will nodded. "Okay. First, I have a question, and all it needs is a yes or no answer. Do we have a protocol in place if, for some reason, we had to abandon the Mansion? Does an alternative base for the X-Men exist?"

Xavier studied Will's face for a moment. "Not anymore. We had considered using the old base in Australia at one point, but too many people knew about it to make it a feasible choice."

Will reached into a back pocket and removed a folded sheet of paper. He spread it out on Xavier's desk, revealing a map. "I was going over some of my holdings earlier today. This site is adjacent to some property that I already own, and the company that owns it is about to go under because of some creative bookeeping. I can get the property, under the table, for a song."

"Wouldn't the Feds take the property in any bankruptcy proceedings?" Jean asked.

"They would if they knew about it. The owner informed me that by this time next week, he plans to be in some nice quiet country without any extradition treaties with the U.S. Obviously, he needs a lot of cash."

"How soon would you have to let them know?"

"They'd prefer to have everything done before we'd be sitting down for dinner, Ororo."

Logan looked at the map. "One access road?"

"Yes."

"Off the power grid?"

"Again, yes. There's a spring, so we'd have a fresh water supply."

"How many buildings?"

"The main lodge, six smaller cabins, and a Quonset hut used for storage."

Logan nodded, then looked at Scott. "I like it."

"How much?" Jean asked.

"Eight million in bearer bonds, coupons attached."

Scott whistled. "Can we swing it?"

"I think so. Bobby, can you come with me to New York, ASAP?"

"Let me change into my suit, and we'll be on our way."

* * *

The next day, Will, Rogue, and Logan inspected the team's new property. "Looks like this place was used for parties," Logan commented. "Must've been some kind of executive retreat." 

Rogue, who was opening drawers, made an 'eww' sound. Taking a pen, she reached inside one of the drawers and removed an obviously used condom. "Gee, you think?"

Will joined them in the main lodge. "We've got two Jeeps and a Bobcat in the storage hut. Fairly large gas storage tank, too."

"The Jeeps got any extras?" Logan asked.

"Running lights, trailer hitches, and plows."

"Anything in the other cabins?" Rogue asked as she tossed the pen, and its cargo, into a trash can.

"Just basic furniture. They've got small kitchenettes, though."

Logan nodded. "I saw fish in the lake earlier, so it's fairly clean. Any boats at the dock?"

"Just a bass boat. What did you find in here?"

"Well, the fridge runs on propane, and so does the grill on the deck," Rogue told him. "Makes sense, given how rarely this place was used. There's a fireplace in every room, including the bathrooms, which are, by the way, designed with couples in mind... huge whirlpool tubs, and big shower stalls. Most of the rooms have TVs, and some have video equipment."

"So do some of the cabins. There were some... props, too."

"Again, eww."

"The roof of this place can probably hold about twenty kilowatts worth of solar panels. That and the windmill should give us more than enough power."

"You can do the installation?" Logan asked.

"I think so. I'll get them sent to the school, then teleport them here."

"And while you're installing them, we can give this place a good scrubbing," Rogue said. "Gloves or no gloves, there are some things here that I'm just _not_ touching."

* * *

After several days of scrubbing, power washing, and polishing, the cabins and main building, dubbed the 'X-Lodge' by Bobby, were ready to be outfitted. Rogue and Jean installed security cameras on the buildings and some surrounding trees. Will, Logan, and Henry installed a gun safe inside the main cabin, and fit a wall panel into place to hide it. Henry set up a small infirmary in the smallest bedroom. Bobby helped Bishop set up monitors, and put electronic locks on all of the cabins (with a manual override on Will's, just in case his powers flared up). Ororo and Betsy invaded a department store, returning with linens and towels for all of the cabins. Lastly, everyone pitched in for the installation of the solar panels and windmill. They were done within a week, and the team's couples got first choice on which cabins they liked. 

Scott was satisfied with the results, but fretted about the absence of any spot to land or store the Blackbird. "The entire point to this place is to lay low," Will reminded him. "I think that a jet on the front porch would tend to interfere with that."

"Then how do we get here if we need to evac the Mansion?"

"I'm going to talk with Stephen about that tomorrow."

* * *

"What you're asking for is going to be tricky," Strange said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

"I know," Will confessed, "and it's possible that it could be done using technology. But I think that this way would prove to be more secure in the long run."

"Why's that?"

"The X-Men have a history of running into people with tech that's way beyond anything that currently exist on Earth. That means there's a risk that any technological method of travel to and from the two bases could be neutralized or corrupted."

Strange nodded in acknowledgement. "While magical tampering would be easy for you to detect."

"Exactly. And if we ground the spell into objects, it'll be easier to disable the system if our security gets compromised."

Strange thought for a moment. "I think I have a method that will work."

* * *

After getting Xavier's permission, Will emptied out a broom closet in the men's wing that had been unused for years. He then took a saw and removed a small portion of the doorjamb, replacing it with a small metal plate that Strange had provided. He also removed the doorknob, replacing it with one which locked with a key. Teleporting to the lodge, he repeated the process on a closet there, making sure that the key fit both locks. 

Strange came to the Mansion once Will was finished, and brought two small gemstones with him. Setting one of them in the plates above the closet, he began a somewhat lengthy incantation. When, at one point in the spell, both gems began to glow, Will took the remaining one and teleported to the lodge, where he set it in the other plate.

Once Will returned, Strange focused his attention on the key, enchanting it and creating eleven duplicates. He then cast a final spell on the door.

"Okay," he said with a deep exhale. "Let's see if it worked."

They called the team over to the door a few minutes later. "I need a volunteer," Will requested.

Jean shrugged. "I'll bite. What do I do?"

He handed her one of the keys. "Would you walk into the closet, please?"

Jean did as she was asked, unlocking the door and opening it.

"...Okay, now _that's_ a neat trick."

She crossed through the doorway, directly onto the floor of the lodge. Looking behind her, she saw the other X-Men peering through the doorway. Stepping through it again, she returned to the hallway in the Mansion. "How did you two do that?"

"The gems create a dimensional gateway," Strange explained. "The keys allow you to access it."

"But couldn't anybody else use the gateway?" Betsy asked.

"Not unless he has _both_ components of the spell," Will informed her. He closed the door, the removed the key from the lock. When he reopened the door, they were all looking at an empty broom closet.

"And if you remove either gem from its setting, the gateway won't open," Strange added.

"So we could evac," Logan mused, "and close it behind us. What if the gems get pulled out while somebody's going through?"

"We added a five-second delay for that contingency," Will told him. "After that... things get messy."

Xavier nodded approvingly. "Outstanding work, gentlemen. Is there anything else that needs to be done?"

Will considered it. "Well, I'd like to fill the pantry in the main cabin with stuff that'll keep for a while. We may have a situation where we have to stay there for an extended period of time, and I'd like to be prepared for that.

"It also might be a good idea for some of us to make appearances in the town nearby. If a baker's dozen suddenly shows up out of nowhere, it'll draw too much attention. A couple that has occasional guests may seem odd, but not enough to worry people."

"What if we had a cover story?" Bishop asked.

"You have a suggestion?"

"A boot camp for young executives. It'll fit with our age range, and would explain why people keep coming and going."

Will nodded. "Sounds good. It'll allow us to all show up at once, too. And it's a way for only a few of us to be there when we need a break."

"You could link it with Superion," Warren suggested.

Will considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "No, that would entangle my business holdings with the X-Men, and I'd prefer not to do that."

"You already have," Rogue pointed out. "Most of us have shares in Superion, remember?"

"That's true, but you can just dump the stock if you want to. Linking this place and Superion runs the risk of getting the IRS on my back, and I definitely do _not_ want that."

"Understandable," Strange agreed. "I'm done here, Will. I'll call in a day or two to schedule your next training session."

"No problem, Stephen. Thanks for the help."

Warren glanced at his watch once Strange had vanished. "It's getting late. Whose turn was it for dinner?"

Betsy slapped herself on the forehead. "It was ours."

"Um..."

Rogue sighed and looked at Will. "Harry's?"

"Sounds good."

* * *

Rogue watched TV with Ororo for a while once she and Will returned from dinner, while Will decided to get some reading done. 

Once the show was over, Rogue stood up and stretched, bidding Ororo a good night as she left the room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Ororo pulled her communicator out of a pocket and activated it. "Storm to Archetype. She's on her way."

"_Confirmed. Thanks."_

As Rogue turned the corner to the hallway where their room was, Will steep out of the room, shutting the door behind him. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the innocent look he gave her. "What are you planning?"

"It's a surprise. Close your eyes."

She shrugged and did so. She heard him open the door, then felt him take hold of her hands, leading her forward a few steps.

"Okay, you can open them now."

After a moment of disorientation, she realized that she was in the master bath of the lodge. The shades had been closed and several candles provided most of the light. The tub was full of steaming hot water, and the fireplace held a small blaze, which burned hot enough to lend a drowsy warmth to the room.

"Oh," she breathed, "this is wonderful."

"I thought you'd like it. Now, hold that pose."

He stripped off his outer garments, revealing that he was wearing a grey body stocking underneath. Slipping on his bath gloves, he ran his fingers up her arms. "May I?"

"Oh, please do," was the purred reply.

He undressed her slowly, taking his time. He then lifted her up, cradling her in his arms, and lowered her into the tub. Once she was comfortably settled, he turned on the whirlpool jets.

Over the next hour and a half, she was given a shampoo and a rinse, scrubbed head-to-toe with a loofah, then dried off, oiled up, and given a thorough full-body massage. By the time Will deposited her in a bed and drew the covers over her, she could barely muster the effort to sigh contentedly.

"We're not on duty again for another two days," he told her once he had changed into a dry set of sleeping clothes, pulled on a mask, and joined her in the bed.

"Good," she murmured, resting her head on his chest. "Means we can enjoy ourselves tomorrow."

* * *

He awoke only a few hours later, opening his eyes and glancing furtively around the room. Convinced he heard something, he slid out from under Rogue's arm and got off the bed. 

The body stocking allowed him to move almost silently, and its color made him nearly invisible in the shadows. He searched the lodge from top to bottom, but found nothing. Returning to the bedroom, he moved a chair so that it faced the bed. Sitting down, he watched Rogue sleep, listening to the quiet sigh of her breathing.

_What did I do to deserve her?_ he thought to himself. _How did I get so lucky?_

_That's all it was,_ another part of him argued. _Luck. It's not like you earned her or anything._

_You don't earn love. It just is. _

_And what happens when it isn't anymore? When pretty talk and backrubs aren't enough for her? What if Nur tries to get to you through her again?_

He tightened his fists. _Then we kill him, then and there, and to Hell with destiny._

He stood up and climbed back into the bed, curling up against her back. _I'm not going to let her get hurt because of me._

_Never again._


	62. Chapter 62

She awoke to the smell of frying bacon, and the sight of the first rays of morning sneaking their way through the blinds. Yawning, she stretched languorously, then got out of bed. She grabbed Will's shirt off the floor and slipped into it as she left the room.

She found Will in the kitchen, chopping up some fresh mushrooms for what she guessed was an omelet. "Morning," she said with a warm, drowsy smile.

"Morning. Ready for breakfast?"

"When you are." She was happily munching on her omelet, cornbread, and fresh-squeezed orange juice a few minutes later.

"So," he asked as he sat down with his own plate of food, "What do you want to do today?"

"Lying around like a lazy bum sounds good." She looked out the rather large window of the kitchen. "Is the lake safe to swim in?"

"If it's safe for the fish, it should be safe for you. Might be a bit cold, though."

"That's okay. It'll help me wake up. The entire lake is part of this property, right?"

"That's right. Why?"

* * *

Shortly after breakfast, Will was enjoying the view as Rogue went skinny-dipping.

"Sure you don't want to come in?" she asked him.

"I've never really enjoyed swimming. I'm so bad at it that it's always more annoying than fun."

She shrugged and floated on her back. "Well, I love it. Back in Australia, we had an underground lake that was fed by a hot spring. I used to go swimming at night so I wouldn't bother anybody." She grinned. "I went skinny-dipping then, too. Havok walked in one time, and nearly knocked himself out on a stalactite."

"I'll bet," he chuckled. He adjusted his straw hat so that his eyes were shielded from the sun.

"Aren't you roasting in that outfit?" she asked. He was dressed in a long-sleeved, dark blue cotton shirt and a pair of black jeans.

"It's better than getting sunburned. You've never seen me with a really nasty burn. I wind up looking like the entrée at a crab shack, and it takes me days to recover. If it weren't for your invulnerability, you'd probably be the same."

She thought about it. "You're probably right. I remember getting sunburned once in a while when I was little. Irene would always put aloe on it."

"What was she like?"

She smiled. "She was always gentle, and sweet. I think you would have gotten along with her really well."

Will just made an affirmative sound in reply, as the heat began to make him drowsy. His head lolled forward in his chair, and his eyes closed. Therefore, he never saw the sly look that crept onto Rogue's face.

About a minute later, he awoke with a start and sputtered as a bucketful of water was dumped onto his head from about ten feet above him.

Rogue just giggled in response to the glare she got. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

* * *

They were debating what to have for dinner when Will's phone rang. "I _knew_ something would come up," Rogue said with a sigh.

Will gave her a look which showed his agreement as he activated the phone. "Riley. Okay, we'll be there in about ten minutes."

"What's up?" she asked as he hung up.

"Ororo just said that they need us back there. Didn't say why."

She nodded. "I'll pack up the food. You shut down the water heater."

* * *

The upper levels of the Mansion were deserted when they returned. A quick check of the computer showed that the team was in the War Room, so Rogue stuffed the food into the fridge, and Will teleported them down to the lower levels.

"Sorry about calling you back so soon," Scott said as they appeared, "but we're going to need everybody for this, just in case."

"What have we got?" Rogue asked.

"I received a message from Liliandra," Xavier told her. "She has a situation which has become something of a problem."

"Don't her 'problems' tend to involve entire star systems?" Will inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Usually," he agreed. "The _Starjammer_ will be here to pick us up fairly soon. You might want to have an extra uniform or two on hand."

Will nodded, then looked at Jean. "Well, looks like you were right about my going into space eventually."

"Don't worry too much about it," she told him. "We've been friends with the Starjammers for years."

"Okay," he said dubiously as he left the room, "but if anyone greets me with the words 'Klatu barada nikto', I'm going to scream."

* * *

When the team assembled in the foyer, they noticed that Will was loaded for bear, with an extra pistol, a dozen or so clips of bullets, and an ammo box with extras. "Planning on taking on the entire Shiar Empire?" Bobby asked him.

"We have no idea how long this is going to take. And there won't exactly be a gun shop around the corner."

"Point."

"Who's minding the store while we're gone?"

"Bish, Warren, and Betsy," Logan told him.

"That's going to be a light crew."

"We have the Avengers on standby if there's a problem."

"On that subject…" He took his cell phone out of a pocket and activated it. "Jeff? Will. I know it's late, sorry about that. I'm going to be incommunicado for a while. We've run into a problem here at the Institute, so we're going to be in full geek mode for a while, and that means no outside contact. You have discretion on any major decisions until I get back with you, which I hope will be fairly soon. Okay, go back to sleep." He shut the phone off. "Hopefully, that'll keep him off my back for a while."

"You may as well leave that here," Scott advised him. It's not like we'll be in range."

"Good idea," he said, placing the phone on a table. "Precisely where in the Empire are we going?"

"The throneworld," Xavier told him. "Chandilar."

"Are there any social taboos that I should know about?"

"Not really. Lil's spent some time on Earth, so she's familiar with our customs. Just treat everyone respectfully, and you should be fine."

He nodded, then glanced up as the walls of the Mansion vibrated slightly. "I'm going to make a guess. That's our ride."

Xavier looked towards Scott and Jean. "Why don't you two go out first? You can catch up on things for a few minutes, before we all have to get moving."

"Good idea," Scott agreed. He and Jean went outside, closing the door behind them.

"Is your bolo tie charged up?" Rogue asked Will.

"Left it out last night. I'll stay near windows when we're at sub-light, just to be safe."

She leaned in a bit closer. "And how charged do _you_ feel? Your powers okay?"

"I feel fine," he assured her. "There shouldn't be any problems."

Scott and Jean came back inside a few minutes later, with Corsair and Mademoiselle Hepzibah just behind them. Will blinked at Hepzibah's appearance, but recovered before she noticed it.

"You're new, aren't you?" Corsair asked once introductions were made.

"I've been with the team for a while now, actually. Pleased to meet you, Colonel Summers."

Corsair grinned. "Haven't been called that in years. And this is Hepzibah."

Hepzibah shook Will's hand firmly, then leaned forward and sniffed. "Smell odd," she noted, matter-of-factly. "Not bad, just odd."

Will blinked. "How so?"

Hepzibah sniffed again. "Smell paper… gun oil… pepper."

"Books, guns, and spice," Bobby opined. "That's Will in a nutshell."

Will sighed, then glanced at Henry, who stood next to Bobby. "Would you, please?"

"Of course," Henry said, whapping Bobby across the head.

* * *

Corsair introduced the rest of the Starjammers once the X-Men had been transported onto the ship – a process which left Will somewhat disoriented, since it required him to regain his dimensional 'bearings'.

Will needed a moment to accept the sheer bulk that Ch'od possessed, and blinked when Raza spoke to him in rather archaic English. He had an easier time dealing with Sikorsky, the cybernetic physician for the ship, and grinned when introduced to the _Starjammer's_ 'brain'. "Waldo? You're a Heinlein fan?" he asked Corsair.

"Grew up on his stories. It was either that or Mycroft Holmes IV."

"And I was worried that I wouldn't have anything to talk about during the trip."

"On that note… Raza, take us out of Earth orbit, then open up a stargate to Chandilar once we're clear of the Sol system."

"Aye, Captain," the cyborg replied.

"Waldo, get eight of the guest quarters thawed out."

"_Aye, Captain."_

"You'll only need seven, Dad," Scott told his father. "Rogue and Will are a couple."

Corsair raised his eyebrows at that, but nodded. "Got that, Waldo?"

"_Aye, Captain. The staterooms will be ready in twenty-seven Earth minutes."_

"Good. The trip should take about two days," he told Scott. "You'll be briefed once you arrive."

* * *

Hepzibah gave Will a quick tour of the ship while the cabins were warming up. "We expose unused rooms to space. Freeze-dries things, keeps them clean."

"Makes sense to me," Will agreed. "The ship's still protected by the shielding?"

"Yah!"

"And how do you keep things inside the rooms?"

"Gravity increases. Air gets vented out, then…"

She stopped talking as she saw Will's face drain of color. A moment later, she had to catch him as he collapsed. "What? What wrong?"

"Space… bent," he gasped. "Hurts…"

Life as an insurgent against a galactic empire gave you good instincts and reaction time. "Waldo, hail Corsair. Shut the stargate _now_!"

* * *

"Just what happened?" Corsair asked Will about ten minutes later.

"I'm aware of the conditions in local space-time," he replied as Rogue held a tissue to his upper lip, staunching his nosebleed. "Your stargate technology forces a tear to form in the local fabric." He looked at Xavier. "Remember the Danger Room session where I had the same problem? Tack a few zeros onto the end, and you'll be close to what I just felt."

"We have a problem, then" Xavier decided. "There's no way to get to Chandilar without using the stargate."

"Couldn't you open a Door?" Bobby asked Will.

"To where? I haven't got the faintest idea where Chandilar is. Once we _get_ there, I'll have a point of reference for future trips, but now? Not a chance."

"Could we sedate you for a few minutes?" Scott asked.

Will considered it. "It would depend on how powerful the sedative is. If I'm too awake, I'll still feel the disturbances. Same if I'm in REM state."

"_There may be an alternative,"_ Sikorsky told him as it retracted the sensor probe he had extended to examine Will. Floating over to a control panel, he 'spoke' with Waldo for a few moments. About fourteen seconds later, a part of the panel slid aside. Reaching inside the resulting opening, Sikorsky removed an object and brought it to Will. _"This will modify your neurochemistry slightly, allowing you to sleep soundly, but in a non-REM state. You will be unconscious, but not dreaming."_

Will took the object, a small pneumatic hypospray, and pressed it to his neck. Seconds later, he slumped back onto the medical bed.

"How long will that last?" Rogue asked.

"_I will administer the counteragent once we enter the Chandilar system,"_ Sikorsky told her. _"He will wake up within a few seconds. He may have trouble falling asleep for a day or two afterwards."_

Rogue nodded, then picked Will up and cradled him in her arms. "I'll be back after I've settled him into bed."

* * *

Raza resumed the _Starjammer's_ course, and the ship arrived at the Chandilar system early on the second 'morning' (Corsair, who normally slept only when exhaustion caught up with him, adjusted the ship's clock to approximate an Earth day).

Will awoke to find Rogue and Sikorsky looking down at him. "We there?" he mumbled.

"We're descending towards Chandilar City now," Rogue told him. "You've got about half an hour to get ready."

He rubbed his face. "Right."

"_Let me know if you have any complications,"_ Sikorsky advised him as he floated out of the room.

Twenty-five minutes later, a showered, shaved Will stepped out of the cabin, dressed in a spotless, neatly pressed uniform. He had added a pocketwatch for a decorative touch, and wore his wire-rim glasses. "Shall we?" he asked Rogue, offering her his hand.

As they joined the rest of the team on the bridge, Will noticed that the Starjammers were all armed. "Weapons are allowed in the throneroom?"

"We have Imperial permission," Corsair informed him. "You don't… not yet, at least."

Will grimaced "That limits my options." He settled on plucking his brass cane out of the air. "This ought to slide by."

There was a slight bump as the ship was held by tractor beams and guided into its berth. The hatch opened a few seconds later, and the two teams stepped onto the platform, which floated in the air just beyond it.

As they descended, Will looked at the city's gleaming spires, which ascended, literally, for miles. "Is the entire planet this intensely developed?"

"Except for a few preserved habitats, yes," Xavier replied.

"What's the population?"

"About eight billion," Corsair supplied.

Will grimaced. "An ecological disaster waiting to happen."

"Not really. Most of the plant life is grown hydroponically, and the Empire's botanists have made the major crops resistant to almost any pathogen."

Will didn't respond to that, but his expression conveyed his disapproval.

**_Behave_**, Jean sent to him.

_**I'll be absolutely polite, Jean. That doesn't mean that I can't hold my own opinions.**_

The platform took a few turns, finally landing at a spot just outside the complex which housed the throneroom. An elderly Shiar, his crest white with age, walked up to greet them.

"Hello, Professor Xavier. You and the X-Men are well?"

"Quite well, Akari. Is our immediate presence requested?"

"Not formally, no. A general audience is being held in the main throneroom. You are invited to join it, or to meet with the Majistrex afterwards."

Xavier, Ororo, and Scott looked at one another for a moment.

"May as well get it over with," Scott suggested.

"I agree," Ororo said. "The faster we get the politics out of the way, the better."

Xavier nodded. "Let's go, then."

"You might want to form a double line," Akari suggested. "The throneroom is rather crowded at the moment."

Xavier and Ororo led the way, followed by Scott and Jean. The rest of the team followed according to seniority, which left Rogue and Will at the rear.

The doors of the throneroom opened, exposing a riot of color and sound. A multitude of races congregated about the room, dressed in everything from gleaming armor to diaphanous gauze. Will offered his arm to Rogue, and she placed her hand on it as they stepped forward.

Jean, who was ahead of them, bit her lip to keep from laughing. **_What's so funny?_** Scott asked her.

_**I just caught a glimpse of Will's thoughts.**_

_**And?**_

_**He's got the cantina music from **Star Wars** running through his head.**_

… _**Great. Now I have it running through mine.**_

Akari introduced the X-Men as they approached the throne. Will removed his hat and bowed deeply as he was presented to the Majistrix.

Lilandra inclined her head in return. "You are Charles' newest student?"

"Correct, Majistrix," Will replied as he stood back up.

"And what is your role among the X-Men?"

"Comic relief," he said with a prefectly straight face.

Lilandra's lips twitched. "I thought that was Iceman's job."

"I've learned how to delegate," Bobby told her.

* * *

After the required tedium of diplomatic introductions, the X-Men were shown to their quarters and given an opportunity to change before the midday meal. Will chose to simply forgo his coat and hat, so he kept himself busy with his computer while Rogue decided on an outfit.

"What are you working on?" she asked him.

"I decided to get back to work on that novel. Unfortunately, it's been so long since I've looked at it that I probably have to start from scratch."

"Just don't get so wrapped up in it that you forget why we're here." She stepped out from behind the privacy screen. "What do you think?"

He blinked. She wore a one-piece dress, in dark green, which hugged her curves tightly. The slit in the skirt nearly reached her hip, and the overly long sleeves covered her hands up to the knuckles. A cutout in the front allowed her to show a bit of cleavage. "Not something I would have expected," he admitted, "but I'm certainly not going to complain."

"Glad you like it," she said with a smile. "We should get moving."

He nodded, shutting down the computer. He put on his gloves, then offered her his hand. They stepped outside their room into the main suite, where the rest of the team had already arrived.

Jean and Ororo also wore gowns… Jean's in black, Ororo's in a blue that echoed the color of her eyes. Xavier and Bobby wore tuxedos, while Scott had chosen an outfit similar in design to his father's. Henry was dressed in his white doctor's coat, and Logan wore his usual flannel and jeans.

"Good," Xavier said, "everyone's ready. Shall we go?"

A member of the Imperial staff led them to the dining hall, where they were quickly seated at a rather long table. The senior team members sat beside Xavier near the head of the table, while the rest of the team was alternated with the Shiar guests. Rogue politely asked an older Shiar gentleman if they could switch seats so that she could sit beside Will. Once she explained that they were a couple, the older man cheerfully agreed.

Xavier must have had a telepathic conversation with Lilandra at some point since their arrival, she decided. Will was conveniently seated across from a professor of Shiar history, and next to a staff member of the Imperial Library. The three of them quickly launched into a spirited discussion on comparative literature and history. By the time the food started to arrive, Will had been promised a data crystal with a complete copy of the Library, translated into English, and a computer course on Shiar history, designed to mimic the manner in which a Shiar student would be taught. He had, in return, promised to send electronic copies of classic literature on Earth with the next transmission to the Shiar, provided that the works were in the public domain.

As the meal progressed, Will became more animated, describing aspects of various mythologies on Earth. When pressed for a specific example, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they had a very dim glow.

"_This is a very old story,"_ he told the guests. _"It may well be the oldest complete story that humanity remembers. It's very long, but I will tell you the beginning."_ He glanced up. _"Could we possibly dim the lights?"_

Lilandra tapped the armrest of her throne, and the lights in the room started to fade out. At the same time, a spotlight shone straight down onto Will's seat, until he appeared to be the only one in the vast room.

_"'He who has seen everything, I will make known to the lands._

_I will teach about him who experienced all things,_

_Anu granted him the totality of knowledge of all._

_He saw the Secret, discovered the Hidden,_

_He brought information of times before the Flood._

_He went on a distant journey, pushing himself to exhaustion,_

_But then was brought to peace._

_He carved on a stone stela all of his toils,_

_And built the wall of Uruk-Haven,_

_The wall of the sacred Eanna Temple, the holy sanctuary.'"_

As he spoke, Will's voice took on a deliberate, measured quality. His eyes became unfocused, staring at a point somewhere in front of him.

While she listened, Rogue noticed that the room had gone absolutely quiet as the Shiar leaned forward to hear Will speak. The X-Men and Starjammers were focused on the story as well. _Makes sense,_ she thought. _I doubt if any of us have heard the original text._

Once Will finished his tale, he sat back in his chair. "That was marvelous," Lilandra told him. "Do you know any others?"

He grinned. _"Oh, a few."_

* * *

Nearly two hours later, Will had to plead a sore throat to get a rest. He had recited portions of _The Elder Edda, _the Irish Ulster Cycle, and Grimms' fairy tales, capping off the night with Tolkien's _The Song of Durin._

As the guests left the hall, the Imperial Guard closed ranks around Lilandra, and the X-Men were led to a room which held a holotank. "Now we can explain why you were called here," Lilandra told them.

"I apologize for holding things up, Majistrix."

"No apology needed, Mister Riley. If anything, I should be thanking you. Your stories made quite an impression on some of the guests. Some elements of the court have been critical of our contact with humans. You may have gone a long way towards changing their minds."

"Let me guess. They think that we're a bunch of warlike, xenophobic barbarians."

"That would be an accurate description of their views," she admitted.

Will shrugged. "Couldn't argue with that. I'd add 'religious fanatics' to the list, myself."

Lilandra blinked, then invited the X-Men to sit down as Ollikh, the head of the Imperial Secret police, was led into the room by Akari. "Shut the door," she told Gladiator, "and set up a privacy field. I don't want any eavesdropping."

Once Gladiator had complied, she turned to Charles. "I'm sorry, my love, but I lied about the reason you've come here."

Xavier blinked. "What do you mean, Lil?"

"The stakes are higher than you thought. The Shiar race is facing the possibility of extinction."

* * *

"Three millennia ago, Shiar technology was at a point comparable to where Earth's is now," Ollikh explained to the X-Men a few minutes later. "We had not begun interstellar travel, but had begun manned exploration of the Chandilar system. We had a colony, which was fairly self-sustaining, that mined the fifth planet for ore which was used in industrial processes here on the Throneworld. In doing so, we inadvertently discovered our first alien life form."

"Little green men?" Bobby guessed.

"It was more like a _very_ little blue man. It was a microbe that lived in the soil on the fifth planet. When it encountered a different environment here on Chandilar, it… forgive me… mutated, becoming toxic to most Shiar. Within a few weeks, large portions of one of our smaller continents were affected."

"What kept it from becoming a global pandemic?" Henry asked.

"Pure luck, from what we understand. Shiar society was more regional back then. The ore processing facilities were located in a somewhat isolated area, and they were able to quarantine the affected population."

"Unfortunately," Lilandra said, "the effect of the microbe on its victims was somewhat… dramatic. The symptoms included…" She took a moment to look at a handheld monitor. "…cold sweats, tics, elevated body temperature, violent behavior, and sexual mania."

"Put bluntly," Ollikh said, "within a few weeks, an urban area comparable in size to your Australia collapsed in an epidemic of murder and rape. Our historians named it the Hot Rage."

"How did they stop it?" Xavier asked.

"The reigning Majistrix did the only thing he could." Lilandra told him. "He ordered a total blockade of the continent. It took almost fifty of our years for the Rage to run its course. It was another forty before anyone was allowed to set foot on the continent again.

"Research teams were sent in, protected by isolation gear. They took samples of blood and tissue from some of the corpses they found. Everything else, buildings and all, was burned to the ground. The final death toll stood at ninety-seven million. It nearly destroyed the Shiar civilization."

"Our historical records show that a cure was found, but all trace of it has been lost. Live cultures of the microbe were placed in cryostorage.

"Ten days ago, one of those cultures was stolen."

* * *

The room was silent for several seconds. "What steps have been taken so far?" Xavier finally asked.

"We've kept our fleet away from the Throneworld," Lilandra told him. "I also gave orders to disable the computer that handles all air traffic to and from space. It's been explained as a system failure."

"Obviously," Will said. "If the truth got out, there'd be pandemonium. Are there any leads?"

"The obvious suspects are the Kree and the Skrull. If they _had_ done it, though, I think we would have gotten some word of it through diplomatic channels by now, and our ambassadors haven't heard anything. I think that the culprits are Shiar."

"Some sort of fringe group," Rogue guessed.

"Exactly. There are some religious factions that say that the Rage was a punishment sent by Sharra and Kyarthi to punish the wicked. They see wickedness and decadence in Shiar society today."

"And a dose of plague will put the fear of God back into everybody."

"That's what we think, yes."

"And you chose us," Jean ventured, "because we're not Shiar. We should be unaffected by the Rage."

Akari nodded. "Our physicians believe that you'll be completely immune."

"Do any records exist of the research done back then?" Henry asked.

"What little that remains is very fragmented. Not of much use to us."

"What if I were to try to recreate the research? You did say that the technology back then was close to current-day Earth's."

"You're thinking that we might find something that we'd overlook," Ollikh guessed.

"It's possible. The cure might be the result of a process that wouldn't be used today. Will, could you work with the Imperial Library to get the relevant research?"

"Um, Henry… I don't speak or read Shiar."

"We'll take care of that," Xavier told him. "The rest of the team will work with the Imperial Guard to find the thieves."

* * *

Xavier requested that W'Son, the Imperial Librarian, come to the X-Men's quarters, where the plan was presented to him. "It would save a great deal of time if Archetype were to learn Shiar… quickly. Would you be opposed to the use of telepathy to copy that knowledge into his mind? All that we would look at is your language skills."

W'Son nodded. "Given the risks, I'm willing to compromise on my privacy. You have my permission."

Will, however, was somewhat dubious about the prospect. "Try to get this done quickly. Dropping my shields takes a bit of effort."

"It won't take long." He moved to a spot between the two men. Placing a hand on each of their heads, he closed his eyes. A quick scan of W'Son's mind located his language center. Reading through it, he duplicated the information and structure, sending the entire batch of information to Will's mind in one large packet.

W'Son was unaffected by the process, but Will gasped, snapping his head back. Rogue was at his side in a heartbeat. "You okay?"

"Just… one second," he breathed. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Opening them, he looked at W'Son. _"Am I understandable to you?"_ he asked in Shiar.

W'Son grinned. _"Your accent's horrible, but yes."_

"_I'm not planning on making any speeches."_ He looked at Henry. "I'll send you any information that you think could be of help. If you want us to focus on anything in particular, let us know."

Henry nodded. "I'll see if they're finished assembling the equipment that I'll need."

W'Son stood up. "We should get started immediately. I'll take you to the Library."

Will picked up his coat, hat, and laptop, gave Rogue a quick hug, and started to follow W'Son out the door. Pausing after a few steps, he looked at Scott. "Something to consider when looking for your thieves: if they venerate the past, then their base of operations is likely at or near a site that has historical or religious significance. It's probably a minor spot that wouldn't draw much of a tourist crowd."

Scott nodded. "We'll keep it in mind. Good luck."

"To all of us."


	63. Chapter 63

The X-Men ran themselves ragged, coordinating with both the Imperial Guard and the Secret Police. Will pored over all the material that the Imperial Library had on what he had dubbed 'The Hot Rage Killer' and sent it to Henry, who had shut himself inside a sealed lab as a safety precaution.

Will was sprawled in a chair within the Library, flipping through various documents. "Hey, W'Son?"

The Shi'ar, who was seated at the desk next to Will, didn't even look up from his monitor. "Yes?"

"Your numeric system is based on the number ten, right?"

"That's right."

"Try looking one hundred years after the end of the plague for any mention of a cure. They might have celebrated an anniversary or something."

"Not a bad idea."

Will heard his communicator beep, and activated it. "Yes, Hank?"

_"Try to find me some information on plant and crop distribution at the time of the plague. I need to pin down a method of infection."_

"You already ruled out air?"

_"Correct. An air vector would have infected the entire planet within weeks, regardless of any blockade. It has to be something land-based."_

"It could be an insect," Will suggested. "That's how malaria and the bubonic plague were spread on Earth."

_"I already considered that. From what I can tell, the microbe lodges itself in the bloodstream, but that isn't where the damage is done. The nervous and endocrine systems are the ones affected."_

"That would fit the list of symptoms," Will agreed. "We'll see if we can find a common indicator. Will out."

"Okay, let's start from the beginning. We're going to recreate the environment of an ore processing facility three thousand years ago."

* * *

Several thousand kilometers to the east, Gladiator and Rogue flew down to opposite ends of a small building on the outskirts of one of Chandilar's smaller cities. At the same time, Jean, Scott, Logan, Oracle, and Manta approached the main entrance.

_Just give the word, Jeannie_, Logan thought.

_**Wait for it, Logan. Timing's critical here.**_

Manta, who was gazing intently at the wall, looked at Scott and nodded.

**_Now_**, Jean sent.

The front door, and two of the building's walls, simultaneously imploded as Scott, Rogue, and Gladiator forced their way in.

The inhabitants of the building, who had been grouped in a circle, found themselves immobilized as their feet were encased in ice. Since all of them, male and female, were dressed only in loincloths, their comfort level dropped dramatically.

"What is the meaning of this?" an older Shi'ar, his crest just beginning to go white, roared from the center of the circle.

"The meaning, D'Myr, is that you and the rest of your Children of Kyarthi are under arrest," Gladiator said, "for suspicion of attempted genocide."

The Shi'ar's eyes bulged. "You have no basis to charge us with anything! We are a religious order, dedicated to study!"

"Your 'students' have been implicated in eight bombings," Manta informed him coldly, "resulting in the deaths of over seventy innocent citizens of the Imperium. Now… where have you hidden the stolen samples?"

D'Myr looked at her disdainfully. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"We'll see," Gladiator said. He looked at Oracle and nodded.

The slight woman pinned D'Myr with a steady gaze. Am moment later, the man began to tremble.

Jean became alarmed. "Oracle, stop."

"Stay out of this, X-Man," Manta advised her.

It was over in a few seconds. D'Myr collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Oracle sighed, broke her gaze, then shook her head at Gladiator.

Gladiator cursed under his breath. "We will move on." He turned to where the door had been and walked out. Oracle, Manta, and finally the X-Men followed him.

Jean's lips were tight as they entered their transport. "Oracle…"

"Save your words, X-Man!" Oracle snapped. "I have the lives of some eight billion Shi'ar at risk. If I have to bruise some of your delicate sensibilities to save them, then that's too damn bad!" She turned away from Jean, and was silent as they took off towards their next target.

* * *

Will looked up from his monitor and smacked himself in the head. "I'm a moron," he announced.

"What's a moron?" W'Son asked.

"We're going at this the wrong way. We think this whole thing is religiously motivated, right?"

"Yes."

"So why wait so long to spring this? Those samples have been sitting there for centuries. Why was it important to steal them _now_?"

W'Son thought frantically. "I don't know."

"Then let's find out. Who's the local expert on Shi'ar religious history?"

"The priestess at the Imperial Temple."

"Take me there."

About twenty minutes later, a transport took W'Son and Will to a building on the edge of the Imperial residence. "Are we allowed inside?" Will asked.

"All temples are open to anyone. It's a basic tenet of our faith." He led Will to an ancient-looking door and knocked three times.

Will glanced at the simple construction of the structure. "Rather small for an Imperial building."

"It's the oldest structure on the grounds. The design's never been altered."

"Why would one want to alter something perfectly suited for its function?" a voice asked them as the door opened.

The Shi'ar woman who stood behind the door was quite elderly, and her snow-white crest framed a face that, it was clear, had once been remarkably beautiful. There was evidence of great intelligence and humor in her eyes. "Why, W'Son," she asked as she looked Will up and down, "have you brought me a convert?"

Will removed his hat and gave a slight bow. "Archetype of the X-Men, at your service, Ma'am. I'm afraid I don't know your title."

"I became too old to care about titles a long time ago, Archetype of the X-Men. Call me L'Renna."

"Honored to meet you. I'd love to have a nice, long philosophical discussion, but I'm afraid we have a bit of an emergency." He looked at W'Son. "Explain it to her, and don't leave anything out."

* * *

A few minutes later, L'Renna had to be gently coaxed into a chair by Will. "Monstrous," she whispered.

"We agree," W'son told her, "and we need your help to find them. From a religious standpoint, is the anniversary of a major event coming up?"

L'Renna thought for a moment. "Not by the modern calendar."

"There's an older calendar?" Will asked.

"Yes. The old one wasn't as accurate, so we switched about eight hundred years ago."

"Do any religious groups still use the old one?"

"Several."

"If you went by the old calendar, would there be an anniversary today?"

L'Renna moved to a desk in a nearby room, and activated a monitor. "Let me convert the date." She waited a moment, then exhaled. "Of course."

"Of course what?" Will asked her.

"Twenty-five hundred years ago today, the emperor… they were both political and religious leaders back then… was killed in a palace coup. The murder was religiously motivated… he was going to start making some changes in doctrine. His grandson succeeded him, and he immediately split the Temple and civil government. He saw it as the only was to protect himself and his descendents from religious fanaticism.

"The Temple priests were split on how to respond, since their removal from the government had drastically reduced their power. Most of them accepted it, and the result was the modern Temple structure. Other, more traditional groups broke off into various sects. They're fringe groups today, with no more than a few hundred members each."

"Are these sects more literal in their interpretation of religious doctrine?"

"Very. Many of them advocate the death of nonbelievers… defined as anyone who isn't one of them."

Will thought for a moment. "Where did that emperor announce the split?"

L'Renna looked at the monitor. "In the throne room of the Old Palace."

"An _old_ palace? Not this one?"

"That's correct. This palace complex is only seven hundred years old or so."

"What's where the Old Palace used to be, then?"

L'Renna gave her computer some instructions. A heartbeat later, her face fell.

"Oh, no…"

* * *

"_Archetype to Cyclops and Storm. Please respond immediately!"_

Scott slapped his commbadge. "This is Cyclops. What is it, Will?"

"_How far away are you from Chandilar City?"  
_"We're on the other side of the planet. Do you have a lead?"

"_I'm almost positive that we have a **target**… **and** a release time."_

"What have you got?"

Will explained the events of twenty-five hundred years ago. _"The site where the Old Palace was is a stadium today. There's a concert going on there right now."_

Manta gasped. "The audience would be from all over Chandilar. If they're infected with the Hot Rage and don't know it, we could have a pandemic within hours."

"_We might have some time. The priestess we spoke with said that the decree back then was made when your smallest moon was directly overhead. If W'Son's right, that gives us about an hour, by Earth standards."_

Ororo looked over at Gladiator, who was at the controls of their craft. "Can we make it?"

"Not in this." He ran his hands over some controls. "And the nearest craft that could is about… twenty of your minutes away."

Scott cursed. "We'll tell Lilandra. She'll send some units to the stadium."

"_All right. I have to talk to Henry."_

* * *

"Sorry, Will. I still have no idea how to kill this thing without killing the host."

"_What about a transmission vector? Have you pinned **that** down?"_

"Yes. It enters the body through the skin. From there, it attacks the nervous system, then the endocrine."

"_So how do you infect a stadium full of people through the skin?"_

Henry heard W'Son's gasp over the comlink. _"I know how."_

"What have you got?" Henry demanded.

"_Our concerts can get a little wild, and the companies that host them count on it. Lately, the trend has been to spray perfumes, lathers, and warm rains onto the crowd. After a while, the concerts develop into something approaching an orgy. It'd be a perfect way to spread the Hot Rage."_

"I'll alert Lilandra. Will, keep your comlink open."

* * *

Will stuffed himself into the back of W'Son's small, one-person transport again. "I hope you don't pick up dates in this thing," he grumbled.

"I'm a librarian," was the reply. "What makes you think I _go_ on any dates?"

"Some things are consistent across cultures, I suppose."

They landed near the stadium within a few minutes, and the pair ran over to the nearest entrance, where an armored security officer waited for them.

"I got the message from Imperial Security," he told them as they approached. "You've both been granted police privileges, so you're giving the orders. What do you need?"

"Who's running the environmental controls for the stadium?" W'Son asked.

"One of my people. I'll take you to the control room."

Two minutes later, they watched the technician run a software test on the environmental controls. "Everything looks fine," she told them.

"That's _here_," Will pointed out. "Could the machinery be controlled at the _other_ end?"

"There are manual overrides, but they'd just dump everything out at once."

"Which is exactly what our criminals want," W'Son snapped. "Where's the machinery?"

"Sub-level three," the guard told them. "I'll take you there." He led them to a cargo lift.

As they descended, Will pulled out his pistol, loading a new magazine and slipping an extra bullet inside the chamber. "Just in case," he told them.

The guard nodded in approval. "They might be shielded against energy weapons."

The lift brought them to a darkened floor. "Wonderful," Will said. "They killed the lights."

The guard pulled out his own sidearm. "I'm used to it. Follow me."

They moved forward slowly, with Will providing cover for the guard, and W'Son at the rear. Hugging the wall, they covered corners and scanned the floor room by room as they approached the environmental controls.

Will felt a vibration in the air above him. Glancing up, he gave the guard a questioning look.

"It's the bass from the music."

Will nodded, urging them forward again. They approached another corner, and Will took point, nodding for the guard to move forward.

There was a sudden flash of yellow light, which temporarily blinded both Will and W'Son. Once their vision cleared, they found that the guard was on the floor, with a rather large hole in his chest.

"Stay back!" a voice echoed from farther up the hall.

_So much for the element of surprise_, Will thought to himself.

"_Will? You okay?"_ Rogue's voice asked from over the commbadge.

"The guard's dead. Looks like our perp has himself barricaded in the mechanical room."

"_We're at least fifteen minutes away,"_ Scott told him. _"Can you stall him?"_

"Scott, I can't even _see_ him." He glanced at W'Son. "You're going to distract him for me."

"Me? _How?_"

He flipped his pistol around and offered it to the Shi'ar. "The safety's off. I want you to point it around the corner and pull the trigger. Keep firing until it's empty. It should force him to stay down. Hopefully, I can get to him before he gets his bearings back."

W'Son thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "How do I reload?"

Will quickly demonstrated how to eject the clip of the pistol, and how to load and engage the replacement. "Got it?"

"Yes. I'll try to aim for the right side of the hallway. You can teleport out of here if you have to, correct?"

"That's right."

W'Son started to speak again, but was cut off when Jean's voice come over Will's commbadge:

"_Will, Charles just let me know that Lilandra is having all of the pipes that lead to and from your location sealed shut. The room should be cut off in a few minutes. If you can delay him for that long, you'll be okay."_

"Have them seal the door we came through, too," W'Son told her.

"_Why?"_

He sighed. "Because if we don't succeed with this, they may still be able to contain the microbe."

The channel was silent for a moment. _"Understood."_

"Good," Will said. "Now keep quiet so you don't distract me." He looked at W'Son. "Ready?"

W'Son moved over to the corner and hugged himself against the wall, the nodded at Will.

"Now."

As W'Son reached around the corner, Will slipped his perceptions into 'overdrive'. Moving forward into the corridor, he wove his way past containers and jutting lengths of piping. As he reached a point that he judged to be about one-third of the distance to his goal, he heard the crack of his pistol, and was actually able to see the bullets speeding past him. The Shi'ar male at the other end of the hallway ducked as the sound of the gunshot reverberated through the room.

Will managed to reach the control room before his target raised his head again, but wasn't able to slow down quickly enough to take advantage of their proximity. He managed to duck behind a rack of equipment before he became a target again.

"Don't try to stop me!" the fanatic yelled. "They scorn the words of Sharra and Kyarthi! They deserve to die!"

"And just _where_ do your holy books say 'Thou shall not be funky?'"

Will risked a glance over the rack to get a look at his opponent. His clothing was dirty and wrinkled, his crest was chaotically wild, and his eyes were glazed. He twitched as he held a pistol in one hand, while grasping a rolling pin-sized cylinder, presumably the microbe, in the other.

Will felt Jean's presence in his mind for an instant. _Not now, Jean. I'm busy._

The answer was brief. _**Thirty more seconds**._

Before Will could answer, there was another flash of energy from the Shiar's blaster. As Will turned to return fire, he heard a sound just above him.

A moment later, the breath was driven out of his lungs as several hundred kilos of piping and equipment fell off an overhead rack, pinning him to the ground. He felt a leg and several ribs break under the weight.

Will raised his head to find the fanatic stepping towards him, the blaster aimed at his face.

**_Sealed!_** Jean's voice shouted in his mind.

A crack reverberated through the room, and the fanatic gasped in pain as the cylinder shattered in his hand. He spun around.

"Sharra and Kyarthi want a word with you," W'Son told him just before putting a bullet in his brain.

* * *

Will looked up at W'Son as the archivist entered his field of vision.

"Why?" was all he could ask.

W'Son shrugged. "I wanted to keep the Rage out of terrorist hands? I have a death wish? I wanted to do something heroic for once in my life? They're all true, to some degree." He leaned forward and spoke into Will's communicator. "Can someone from the _Starjammer_ teleport him into an isolation ward?"

There was a slight pause. _"Yes,"_ Gladiator's voice replied. _"He can remain contained until the microbe runs through its life cycle. Doctor McCoy has determined that it cannot survive for extended periods in a human host. What about you?"_

"I'm… no longer a concern. You can transport him as soon as you've made the arrangements for his isolation. Please give us some privacy for a moment. W'Son out."

W'Son offered Will's pistol back to him. "I'd like to ask you for a small mercy before you go."

Will felt that he had to ask, even though he knew what the answer would be. "What's that?"

"I know what the Rage is going to do to me. I don't want to die in a way that's so… demeaning. I want to have a clear mind at the end."

Moving slowly, Will took his gun from W'Son's hand. "You're sure?"

The Shi'ar nodded. "Today was a good day."

"Yes… it was," Will said as he raised the pistol. "Rest now, my friend."

The shock of the recoil nudged a piece of piping from the heap atop Will, causing it to land on his head. He was unconscious before W'Son's body hit the floor.


	64. Chapter 64

Rogue was worried.

She sat in a chair beside Will's isolation unit, watching him sleep. He'd been doing a lot of that in the four days since the microbes had been released, but the Shi'ar physicians who had examined him (while wearing protective gear, for their own safety) had assured her that he had suffered no ill effects from his exposure.

She, for her part, suspected that his condition was emotional in nature, rather than physical. When some of the other X-Men had come by to relieve her, she gently declined.

It was late at night, by Shi'ar reckoning, when Will turned towards her and opened his eyes. "You should sleep," he told her.

She leaned forward in her chair, so that she was as close to him as the wall of the isolation unit would allow. "I will… once I'm sure you're okay."

He turned away from her again and stared into space. "I'd begun to think of him as a friend. And, in the end, I had to kill him."

"Because he asked you to. He died with his dignity. From what Lilandra told us, that means a lot to the Shi'ar. You helped him die with honor."

"I still helped him die."

She was silent for a moment, then stood up. "They told me that you should be able to come out of there tomorrow. Lilandra will want to see you right after that." She touched the wall next to him. "I'll see you in the morning."

He said nothing as she left the room. The lights shut off behind her, leaving him in darkness.

* * *

The next morning, Will was given a duplicate of his uniform (the original had been destroyed by medical robots, as a safety precaution), and released from isolation. A pair of high-ranking Imperial officers politely but firmly ushered him to the throneroom.

He groaned inwardly as he entered the room. Lilandra sat upon the throne, in full armor, with the X-Men and the Imperial Guard flanking her on either side. A good-sized crowd filled the rest of the room. He glared at Xavier. _You couldn't convince her to tone this down a little bit?_

**_This _is_ the toned-down version. She originally wanted a parade._** He smiled slightly at Will's mental whimper. **_It's a political necessity. She'll make it as quick as possible._**

_I notice you didn't say painless._

_**I'm not a miracle worker.**_

"Archetype of the X-Men," Lilandra said in a clear voice, "step forward."

As Will walked towards the throne, he felt Xavier's telepathic 'knock' again. _Yes?_

**_Lil's going to say that the stadium was threatened with a bomb. She's afraid that any mention of the Hot Rage, even after the fact, could cause a panic._**

_Right._ He stopped at the base of the raised platform where Lilandra sat.

Lilandra stood up, taking an ornate scepter from its resting place beside the throne, and stepped forward to face Will.

"Do I kneel?" Will asked her in a low voice.

"Not until I tell you to," she murmured back. "Feel free to let your mind drift. This could take a while. Charles will let you know when I'm done."

"Fine with me."

Will was on his twenty-third rendition of 'Birds In the Wilderness' when Xavier gave him the mental equivalent of a kick in the shin. He immediately turned his attention back to Lilandra, who was picking up a blue sash, inlaid with several jewels, from a small floating platform. She draped it over his left shoulder.

Will bowed deeply. "Now what?" he whispered.

"Go through the door to your right. The X-Men and I will catch up in a moment."

When Lilandra, the Imperial Guard, and the X-Men joined Will in the anteroom, they found that he was studying the sash with a critical eye. "What are these gems?"

"The red ones are starhearts," Lilandra told him. "The blue ones are called night gems, and the green ones are fairly close to Earth's emeralds."

"And what was the name of the honor?"

"Sentry of the Imperium. It's usually awarded posthumously."

Will stiffened. "That was something I wanted to ask. Has a memorial service of some kind been scheduled for W'Son?"

She nodded soberly. "Tomorrow afternoon. He's being given a state memorial."

"There was no chance of recovering his body?"

"We can't risk breaking containment of the Hot Rage. We had to completely seal off the area. It's being encased in our densest composites right now."

Will nodded. "Did he have any family?"

"His parents. Would you like to speak with them?"

"I will see to it, Majestrix," Gladiator offered.

"Thank you, Kallak. Now, Mister Riley, I'm afraid that you now have an obligation to go with your new title."

Will visibly deflated. "A party?"

"It's more like a buffet lunch. You only have to suffer through an hour or so before you can leave without causing a scandal."

He sighed and looked at Rogue. "Can I go back to bed?"

"No."

"Damn."

* * *

Nearly two hours later, Rogue was trying very hard not to laugh at Will, who was doing a very good impression of a two-by-four. She unobtrusively sidled up to him and linked her arm with his. "You ready to go?"

"Absolutely," he told her with a sigh of relief. They started to make their way towards the door on the other side of the room. "When did you step out to change?"

She was dressed in the green sheath dress she had worn the night they had arrived on Chandilar. "About fifteen minutes after the party started. I felt underdressed."

He nodded. "Now as long as I don't get accosted again…"

"A moment, Sentry?"

Will stopped dead in his tracks. "I offended the gods in a past life," he muttered. "It's the only explanation." Turning around, he pasted on what he hoped would be seen as a friendly smile. "Yes?"

The armored Shiar officer who had interrupted them was about a head taller than Will, with features that would be called aquiline on a human. He was attired in ceremonial armor, with an ornate, rapier-like blade at his side. "Commander D'Kell, at your service, sir."

Will inclined his head in greeting. "Commander. What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to add the thanks of the Shiar military for your actions on our behalf."

"I didn't act alone, Commander. W'Son paid a much higher price than I did."

D'Kell gave them a patronizing smile. "Yes, the archivist. His death was regrettable… but I'm sure that it will also prove to be constructive."

"How will it do that?" Rogue asked.

"W'Son was a commoner, Rogue, not a warrior born. He proved to be unequal to the task set before him."

Will immediately did something that Rogue hadn't seen before. He lost his temper. She watched his eyes flash brightly for a moment as his face turned red.

"Commander," he said in a voice brimming with anger, "W'Son died bravely, and with honor. He departed this life while saving the lives of innocents. That is a _noble_ act, regardless of one's station. I feel that an apology from you is in order."

By this point, a number of partygoers had stopped their celebrations to watch the exchange. Jean, sensing Will's anger, had alerted Xavier, who, in turn, had informed Lilandra.

D'Kell looked into the faces of the crowd, then straightened up and looked at Will haughtily. "The Shiar Empire does not apologize to barbarians."

"And when did you start speaking for the Imperium, Commander D'Kell?" Lilandra asked in a frosty voice as she and Xavier arrived at the scene. "Has there been a promotion that I was unaware of?"

D'Kell cringed at Lilandra's tone. "This… _human_… has insulted me, Majistrex."

"How?" another armored soldier asked him. "By pointing out that you're acting like an elitist, pompus twit? I've been telling you that for years, D'Kell." The speaker turned to Will. "Captain Eremin of the Imperial frigate _Resolute_, Sentry."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain. Could you be kind enough to tell me what Shiar protocol demands in a situation like this?"

Eremin thought about it for a moment. "He's questioned the honor of someone who can't defend himself. As that person's friend, you're obligated to stand in for them."

"And what's the customary way of settling a dispute like this?"

"A duel," Lilandra informed him, "to be considered over only when one party apologizes or falls in combat."

Will nodded, then turned to D'Kell. "Commander D'Kell of Chandilar: I, Will Riley of Earth, hearby challenge your stain upon the honor of W'Son of Chandilar. Do you accept this challenge, or retract your insult?"

D'Kell looked around at the crowd, focusing on a small group of Shiar who appeared to be close to his age. They glared at him in wordless encouragement.

"I accept."

* * *

"I'm not sure about this," Jean muttered to Scott a few minutes later. They had moved to an open area outside the Imperial complex, where several floating platforms were arranged in a manner similar to stadium seating.

"I talked to Dad about it," Scott replied. "If Will hadn't made the challenge, W'Son's family would be stigmatized. Now, though, even if Will loses the fight, their honor isn't affected."

"It's also possible that D'Kell provoked Will intentionally," Xavier said from his location on the platform in front of them. "There are several factions among the noble houses of Chandilar that oppose any contact with humanity. By confronting Will, D'Kell may have elevated his standing among them."

"Do you think he'll try to kill Will?" Ororo asked.

"If he does," Bobby decided, "he's in for one hell of a surprise."

* * *

Rogue and Logan, meanwhile, were helping Will prepare for the duel. "Please try not to kill the guy," Rogue pleaded.

"I don't plan on it. He'll just learn a painful lesson or three." He turned to Eremin, who had volunteered to advise him on the rules of Shiar ritual combat. "How resilient is that armor he's wearing?"

"Not very. That's a decorative suit."

"Weak areas are at the joints?"

"Correct."

He nodded, then shrugged out of his coat, handing both it and his hat to Rogue. He then stepped forward into the circle that had been holographly placed on the ground to set the boundary of the arena.

D'Kell also entered the arena, holding an elaborate, ornate sabre which was encrusted with gems and precious metals. "You're going to pay for your arrogance, human," he sneered.

Will's expression was blank as he raised the hilt of his sword to his face. Offering D'Kell a salute, he lowered his blade into a defensive position.

D'Kell raised his sword and stepped towards Will. "Now you will learn how a noble house of the Shiar Empire fights."

With an almost negligent flick of his wrist, Will caught one of the protrusions of D'Kell's weapon with the tip of his sword. A good tug pulled it out of D'Kell's hand, sending it flying out of the arena.

"Apparently," he told the stupefied man, "quite foolishly."

Over the next few minutes, Will slowly and methodically peeled D'Kell's armor off him, slicing through latches and straps without once breaking the skin of the younger man. When he was finished, he held the tip of his blade to D'Kell's neck.

By this point, D'Kell was terrified, crying like a child as he apologized and pleaded for his life. Will silenced him with a glare, then looked at Lilandra.

"What do you suggest I do with him, Majistrex?"

Lilandra did her best to look bored. "Under our laws, his life is yours to take."

Will looked back at the wreck of a man, then lowered his sword. "If I'm going to take something from the Shiar Empire, I want it to be something of value." He turned around and left the arena, walking back to the palace.

The crowd turned its back on D'Kell and left the grounds. The nobleman found himself alone, with a growing feeling that he should become accustomed to it.

* * *

"What's going to happen to him?" Bobby asked Lilandra later that day.

"His family won't want anything to do with him for quite a while, and I'm sure that an excuse will be found to discharge him from the military before long. He'll find that, shockingly, he now has to work for a living, rather than ride along on his family name." She turned her attention to Will, who sat at the far end of the table where they were eating dinner. He appeared to be lost in thought. "Is he like this often?" she asked Xavier.

"Don't get me started."

Rogue gave Will a helpful elbow to the ribs. His head shot over to her, then to Lilandra. "My apologies, Majistrex. Did you want something?"

"How did your meeting with W'Son's parents go?"

"He thought for a moment. "To be honest, I'm not sure. They seemed to be holding their emotions in check while we were talking, but as I was leaving, they told me to enjoy myself at the service."

Lilandra nodded. "I had a feeling that might confuse you. Our memorial services are meant to celebrate a person's life, rather than to dwell on their passing."

"So I'm going to a party tonight?"

"A fairly wild one."

Will sighed. "More crowds."

"Is it becoming a problem?" Ororo asked him.

"Just annoying, that's all. I'll let you know if I start to get overwhelmed. As long as I have time beforehand to strengthen my shields, I should be fine."

Lilandra nodded. "I'll make sure that you get it. Oh, that reminds me… Captain Eremin conveyed an invitation to you , if you're interested."

"For what?"

"A tour of the _Resolute_. They're scheduled to leave on a new tour of duty tomorrow. She's our newest class if frigate, and he likes to show her off."

"This is the first tour of duty for this ship?"

"Yes. She has an experimental stardrive. She'll be able to get twenty-two percent closer to a star without any higher risk to the system."

"Has that been field-tested," Henry asked, "or is that just on paper?"

"We've done real-world tests. There were no problems."

"I'd love to have a tour," Will said. "I doubt I'll be able to understand any of it, but I'd still enjoy the opportunity."

"I'll come along to keep you out of trouble," Rogue said.

"You wound me, love."

"I _know_ you."

* * *

The _Resolute_ proved to be comparable in size to the _Starjammer_, with a greater proportion of the ship's space devoted to armaments. "Makes sense," Rogue commented at one point. "You're a police vessel. The _Starjammer's_ basically a privateer."

Eremin nodded. "The only cargo we carry would be either medical supplies or prisoners. In either case, they'd be kept in cargo containers within the primary hold, then moved by pressor beam, if necessary."

"What about standard supplies?" Will asked. "I know you can't depend on fabricators for everything."

"We have a storage bay right below where you're standing. Follow me." He slid aside a hatch and led them down a ladder.

As he followed Eremin, Will suddenly felt a mild rugh of nausea and lightheadness. "Did the gravity just decrease?"

"Sorry, I should have warned you. We lower the gravity in here when we're moving cargo. Makes it easier to rearrange things. I'm so used to it now that I don't even notice the shift."

Will nodded as he stepped off the ladder and surveyed the room. A number of Shiar crewmen (and women) were shifting cargo containers around the room, arguing amongs themselves how best to maximize both capacity and accessibality.

Rogue looked at the crew, who were wearing only what could charitably be called underwear. "Why's everybody in their skivvies?"

Eremin needed a moment to comprehend the question. "A few reasons. It gets hot in here, and it's dirty work. There's a low-gravity shower nearby, so they can wash up as they leave. Also, this way they're less likely to get caught up on anything. Makes it easier to run the loaders, too."

"Loaders?"

Will looked at the machines that Eremin pointed to, and blinked. "Didn't I see Sigourney Weaver using one of those things?" he asked Rogue.

"Actually, thery look like bare-bones versions of the ones we use to service the power tap back at the Mansion."

"Those are full enviornmental suits," Eremin pointed out. "These are just strength-enhancement units, so their chassis can be simplified."

"What's their strength multiplier?"

"Fifty times base strength."

"The same as ours, then."

"We're actually getting these units replaced by a newer model before we leave. The engineers have been able to improve on their power consumption ratio."

"What'll happen to these?"

"They'll be scrapped, most likely."

Will frowned at that. "That's a bit of a waste, isn't it? They're still perfectly functional."

"True, but we Shiar have a tendency towards short attention spans when it comes to technology. Besides, it keeps our military contractors in business. In any case, that ends the tour. I'll see you both at the service?"

"We'll be there."

* * *

Will managed to find a (somewhat) quiet spot to sit down at the service, and he smiled as he watched Rogue insinuate herself into a crowd of dancers.

"Enjoying yourself?" Lilandra asked him as she settled into the chair next to him.

"As much as I can at an event like this. Watching Rogue enjoy herself is more than enough for me." He nodded politely to Gladiator, who had taken a post just behind them. "Where's the Professor?"

"He wanted to discuss something with Corsair, I believe." She looked over his shoulder. "Hello, Captain Eremin."

Will turned to face the younger man, who was raising himself up from a bow. "Good evening, Majistrex, Sentry. I wanted to give my regards before we begin our preparations to break orbit."

"We appreciate the courtesy. Please convery my regards to the governor of Carnit Seven."

"I will make certain of it, Majistrex." Eremin then turned to Will. "When are you and the other X-Men returning to Earth?"

"Corsair plans on leaving early tomorrow afternoon… or when everybody's up and sober, whichever's later."

Eremin nodded. "There _are_ advantages to being a private operator. A good journey to you, then."

"And to you. Please convey my thanks to your crew for the tour."

"I will." He started to turn around, then turned back and gave Will a sly smirk. "Oh, I almost forgot… with all the new equipment we just got, we had to unload a few things. I left something outside that I think you'll find entertaining." He signaled the _Resolute_, and was teleported away a moment later.

Will looked questioningly at Lilandra, who gave a rather unregal shrug in reply. He asked for permission to leave, then went out the door to the street outside.

A few seconds later, Jean and Xavier looked at one another. "Did you just hear Will think 'Oh, _cool_!'?" Jean asked.

Xavier nodded. "Something tells me that can't be good." A quick mental summons gathered the team together, and they followed Lilandra and Gladiator out into the courtyard.

They found Will clomping around the courtyard in a three-meter tall, two-meter wide, fifteen-ton, somewhat dated Shiar construction exoskeleton. He looked at them with a grin that was both childlike and diabolic at the same time.

"Can I keep it?"

* * *

Captain Eremin stepped onto the bridge of the _Resolute_ and sat in his cahir. He was about to give the order to break orbit when the communications officer tilted her head and looked at him. "Sir, I just heard something odd from Chandilar City."

"Odd how?"

"Well, it was really loud, but I don't recognize the phrase. What does 'Hell, no!' mean?"

Eremin smiled. "Nothing we need worry about, Ensign. Let's break orbit."


	65. Chapter 65

Once the team disembarked from the _Starjammer_, Will parked his new toy in the hanger, then went out to the woods behind the Mansion, where he found a nice, shady spot to lie down. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

"Comfortable?" a voice asked him a few minutes later.

"Very, Ororo," he answered without opening his eyes. "Just taking some time to bond with Mother Earth."

Ororo nodded. "Not a bad idea." She lay down next to him, crossed her hands over her abdomen, and relaxed with a sigh. "It rained sometime this morning."

"And you know this how…?"

"The smell of the pine needles." She chuckled. "It took Logan three straight months of dragging me out here at all hours for me to be able to tell the difference."

"Somehow, I suspect that the weather was a bit gloomy during that time."

"A bit," she admitted. "I get a bit cranky when I don't get enough sleep."

"I'll keep that in mind when we have an extended mission."

"Good idea. There's a mercenary out there somewhere with scorch marks in some delicate locations."

"Ouchie."

After a while, he stood up and stretched. "Well, no use putting it off any longer. Time to catch up on my mail and check in with Jeff."

"What will you say when he asks what you were doing?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. I may just say that I was working on ideas for…" His voice trailed off.

"Will?"

"Ororo," he asked in a very calm voice, "what's today's date?"

She took a moment to think about it. "The eighteenth."

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Rogue had just finished dressing after her shower when Will burst into their room. "Where's my laptop?" he asked her, looking around wildly.

She needed a moment to recall where she had seen it last. "Bottom shelf of your nightstand, I think."

He made a mad dash for the computer and turned it on. As it ran through the boot cycle, he muttered impatiently. "C'mon, c'mon…"

"What's wrong?"

"My novel."

"What about it?"

"It's due by the end of next week."

"And how much of it's done?"

"Nowhere _near_ enough to be ready for submission." He opened a few files and groaned. "About seventy-five pages. I'm committed to at _least_ two-fifty."

"Do you think you can finish it in time?"

"I don't have a _choice_. I'm under a contract." He gathered together a few loose sheets of paper and stuffed them into a notebook. He added a few books from his shelves, then stuffed everything into a tote bag. "I'll be at Harry's if anybody needs me," he told her as he grabbed a jacket and clipped his phone onto his belt.

* * *

Judith Leigh was a fairly new employee at Harry's Hideaway, but she had been made aware of certain company rules on her first day:

Always be polite.

Smile.

Share your tips.

As weird as the folks at Xavier's can get, they're nice people, and they tip well enough for Harry to pay for his Range Rover, so _just deal_.

She was careful, therefore, to smile brightly as the grey-haired man came in. "Good morning. Table or booth?"

"Is the corner booth in the back available?" He indicated the heavily loaded tote bag at his side. "I'll need to spread some papers out."

"No problem. Follow me."

Soon afterwards, Judith had placed the customer's order with Harry: "Mushroom cheeseburger, medium well, with chili fries, and a pitcher of Coke. He said he'll probably be here until dinner, so he'll be ordering a meal then, too."

Harry nodded. "Just make sure that his Coke keeps getting topped off."

Judith took the food over to the table about fifteen minutes later. Her customer had arranged some papers to one side of his laptop, and was staring at the screen gloomily. "Problem?" she asked him.

"I'm stuck on how to segue into the next scene."

"What are you writing?"

"A mystery. Think Mickey Spillane, or Raymond Chandler."

"Judith nodded and placed the order on the table. "That would make me the world-weary, but curiously attractive waitress with the heart of gold, right?"

He grinned at her. "I don't create the cliches. I just use them."

As she walked back to the bar, she saw him think for a moment, then start typing rapidly.

_Judy had been a pampered little thing as a girl. Her daddy had been a stockbroker on Wall Street, and Black Friday hit him hard. Judy went straight from Sorority Row to Skid Row. She knew how to get her money's worth from two years of college, though. She couldn't qualify as a teacher, but she tutored kids every afternoon… sometimes while she was in-between orders. She made sure that the kids got a decent meal while they were there, too. For some of them, she told me, it was the only one they got all week._

* * *

"Hey, Harry."

"Hey yourself. He's over there."

"Thanks." Rogue made her way over to the corner. "How's it going?"

Will looked up from the computer and blinked. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven. Harry noticed that you were on Mars, so he called me to pick you up."

"Oh. Okay. Just let me finish this paragraph, and I'll shut down." He fished into a pocket hand handed her a fifty dollar bill. "Could you give this to Harry, please? Tell him to give the change to my waitress."

* * *

"You coming to bed?"

"Not just yet. I want to keep this going, while it's still fresh in my mind. I'll work in the library for now."

* * *

Betsy left him a plate with a muffin and a glass of juice the next morning.

Henry placed a turkey sandwich and a glass of milk beside him at lunchtime.

Rogue made him go to bed at midnight, since he had, by that point, been up for forty-two hours. He had written nearly seventy-five pages, and had revised some of his earlier material to boot.

He awoke just before eight, took a brief shower, jumped into a pair of jeans and a turtleneck, then planted himself into a reading nook in the library. Bobby, when he came to reshelve a book, considered asking him how things were going, but had second thoughts when he saw that Will was muttering to himself and banging his head against the windowsill. Bobby chose to back away slowly and avoid making any sudden movements.

The temperature dropped once the sun went down, so Will relocated to the sitting room, where he wrapped an afghan around himself and sat, lotus-style, in an easy chair, with his computer in his lap and his hat on his head (he claimed it helped him think). Smoke only added to the weirdness when she jumped onto the back of the chair and peered over his shoulder, mesmerized by the movement of the cursor across the screen. Rogue unobtrusively took a picture of the scene, then sent it to Piotr in Scotland:

_Petey:_

_I want a painting of this. Price no object._

_-R.._

* * *

Will ignored various requests to go to bed, insisting that he was "Almost done." He only stopped long enough to occasionally go to the bathroom, at which point the X-Man closest to his computer frantically saved the entire story to a CD-RW, on the remote chance of the computer crashing. Upon his return, Will tossed a few more logs onto the fireplace, then got right back to work.

Rogue began to get worried, so she called the only other writer she knew. "St. John?"

_"Rogue! How are you, love?"_

"I'm great. Listen, I have a question for you…" She briefly described the situation.

"No worries. He's in the zone, Rogue. Been there a few times, meself. The story's got hold of him, and it won't let go until it's told."

"So the best thing to do is just water him occasionally?"

_"Pretty much. He on a deadline?"_

"He's got… nine days, now."

_"And how many pages to make his quota?"_

"Seventy-five to a hundred at this point, I think."

"He should make it, then. Expect things to get weird before the end, though."

* * *

Bishop was leaving the kitchen with a sandwich and a glass of Dr. Pepper when he was cornered by Will.

"You're meeting an informant at the docks. It's just after two in the morning. You're up against five thugs, and all you have is a six-shooter. You're backed up against a stack of crates. There's one light, and it's shining in your direction. What do you do?"

Bishop thought for a moment. "Shoot the light. The darkness will give me some cover."

Will considered that for a few seconds, then nodded. "That works. Thanks." He headed back towards the sitting room.

Bishop stood there for a short time, looked down at his soda, then went looking for something harder.

* * *

_"A-ha!"_

Xavier, who was passing by the sitting room, would have jumped out oh his chair, had it been physically possible for him. He opted instead to come over to the doorway. "Did you have a breakthrough?" he asked Will, who was pacing around the room.

"Even better. I know how to _end_ this damn thing. The only problem is that I'm too wired to sit still long enough to type it up!"

Xavier moved over to the phone and picked up the receiver. "_That_, I think I can help with."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Pietro Maximoff entered the room. "I was told you needed my help, Xavier."

"Not him," Will said, "me." He pointed his computer. "Sit down, and start taking dictation."

Pietro looked offended that he would be considered for such menial labor… though, to be fair, it was nearly identical to the expression he had ninety percent of the time. "I am no one's secretary."

"You'll get one thousand an hour."

"Then again," Pietro said without missing a beat, "I could use some petty cash for Ben Grimm's next poker game."

* * *

"'…As I stepped into the room, I could feel Hannah's eyes following me. I walked up to Luke and Father Curtis. The Padre was just finishing up the Last Rites, and Luke looked like he was trying to figure out how he was going to word his report.

"'Frank Charleston had been seventy years old and arthritic, so it didn't seem likely that he could slam his wheelchair through the banister of a third floor stairwell. But then, I had worked cases in Indian country where perfectly healthy, sober men had mysteriously backed into pitchforks, so I supposed that anything was possible.'"

Will took a drink of water. "We'll end the chapter there," he told Pietro. "You can take five while I run to the bathroom."

As Will left the room, Pietro stood up and stretched. He then walked over to the room's other door, which Xavier had closed behind him when he left. He opened it to find nearly the entire population of the Mansion behind it. "What do you think of it so far?" he asked them.

"He's doing this as he goes along?" Scott asked incredulously.

"He's got a basic outline in his head, from what I understand," Rogue told him, "but it's more like a road map than anything else."

"How many of us have shown up so far?" Bobby asked. "I've lost count."

"Seven, I think. How's it feel to be a murder victim, Professor?"

Xavier shrugged. "Been there, done that. How do _you_ like being a _femme fatale_?"

She grinned. "I love it." She put the back of one hand to her forehead. "Ah'm just usin' mah Southern charm and feminine wiles to climb up the social ladder," she said melodramatically.

"Making you the lounge singer in a honkytonk was a little cliched, but it's a nice touch," Henry commented.

"I'm amazed he made me the owner of the place," Ororo decided.

"It makes sense, for that setting," Logan told her. " A lot of the honkytonks were in the 'colored' parts of town, and owning one would have been a real moneymaker for you. And honkytonks usually had a good racial mix of customers and staff, so my being a bouncer and bartender wouldn't have been out of place."

"But why was my character taking bribes?" Bishop asked.

"Prohibition," Xavier told him. "I'll explain later. He's coming back."

Pietro nodded and shut the door, sitting down again with time to spare before Will returned.

"Okay. New chapter. 'There's a stink to a morgue that clings to you, and never quite goes away…'"

* * *

"'The press gang jumped forward as the verdict came down. Guess they smelled the blood in the water. I was able to sneak back to the door out without being noticed.

"'Hannah was standing in the hallway, looking like one of the sexier Varga Girls. She wrapped her fox stole around her shoulders and slinked over to me. "You in a hurry to be somewhere?"'"

"'I thought about it for a moment. "There's nothing that can't wait. You?"'"

"'"Well, I was waiting for my white knight, but I've decided that I like my men a little dirtier."'"

"'She took my arm as we walked out to the streets. "I thought you said you never get involved with your clients."'"

"'I opened the door, and we both stepped out into the sunlight. "I lied. I do that sometimes."'"

Will took a deep breath. "The End. Mister Maximoff… save that bastard."

He turned and looked at the clock. "Okay, that took… just over six hours. We'll round that up to seven. Would you prefer cash or check?"

"A check would be fine."

When he returned, Will found himself nearly buried in congratulatory X-Men. He waved them off hurriedly. "I'm not quite done yet," he told them. "Mister Maximoff, could you take a quick letter?"

"Of course."

"'To: Mirna McCarl, V.P., Equinox Publishing, Dublin…' I'll give you the address in a minute… 'Attached is my latest manuscript, tentatively titled…'" He thought for a moment. "_'A Most Excellent Murder'_. Feel free to make any changes that you feel are needed. I would like this one published under my usual pseudonym of John Roland. Please send the contract to my attorney for review before I sign. As always, thank you for your support. Yours truly, _et cetra_.'"

He finished and found that he was the only one who didn't appear to be in shock. "What's wrong?"

"…_You're_ John Roland?" Jean asked after a moment.

"That's the pseudonym I usually use when I write. Why?"

"You've been on the _New York Times_ List," Betsy said. "I have two of your books."

"Which ones?"

"_Cruel is the Maiden_, and _The Conscience of the Clan_."

Will looked scandalized. "Oh, gods, you actually _read_ that one? I was hoping I'd never have to admit to that piece of tripe."

"I thought it was good."

"Betsy, I wrote that one while I was on a four-day caffeine jag. I'm still amazed I was able to string together coherent sentences, let alone a plot."

"Well, _I_ liked it," she said with a pout.

Will glanced at the clock again. "I figure I have about an hour or so before my body realizes that I want to sleep again," he told Rogue. "How does a late dinner at Harry's sound?"

She examined his rumpled clothing. "You might want to get changed first."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Rogue asked for the check when Will's head began to droop alarmingly close to his bowl of bow-tie pasta. She ordered him into the shower once they returned to their room. Stripping down to her body stocking, she toweled him dry once he stepped out, then poured him into bed. He was asleep almost instantly.

Rogue put on pajamas and a pair of slippers, then stepped out into the hallway, where she found Ororo waiting for her. "How is he?"

"Out like a light. He'll probably sleep through most of tomorrow. I think I'll just watch TV until I'm tired enough to join him."

"The remote is mine once Letterman comes on," Ororo decreed as they walked towards the stairs. "Denzel is on tonight."

* * *

Three hours later, the two women were handing a box of tissues back and forth to each other. The late night movie, _Steel Magnolias_, was a quintessial 'chick flick'.

_"You are evil,"_ Shirley MacLaine insisted, _"and you must be destroyed."_

"Am not."

Rogue glanced behind her. "I thought you were asleep," she told Will.

"Was thirsty." He was dressed in a robe, and squinted blearily at the screen.

"Want to join us?" Ororo asked as she slid over on the sofa to give him room.

He shook his head. "That's okay. Just came down for some juice." He glanced back at the TV as a 'Special Report' banner came on. "Uh oh."

_"We interrupt our regularly scheduled broadcast to bring you this breaking story. An unidentified superhuman has attacked the European Union headquarters in Brussels, on the second day of the G-7 talks."_

The screen stitched to a view of the E.U. headquarters, where a young man in a hideously garish bodysuit was threatening a dozen or do politicians. He brandished a staff in his hands that seemed to pulse with energy.

"The assailant has made the following demands…" 

"He's a separatist," Will muttered. "_Has_ to be a separatist…"

"The immediate release of all jailed E.T.A. members…" 

"Oh, this is _ridiculous_!" Will exclaimed, storming out of the room.

"Should we wake up the team?" Rogue asked Ororo.

"This will probably be over by the time we get there. Unless we have Will teleport us…"

"Uh… 'Roro?" Rogue pointed to the television. Ororo shifted her attention and blinked.

Will, in full uniform, had appeared just behind the hostage taker. Before the young man could even register his presence, Will pulled the staff from his hands and broke it over his knee, causing its energies to flicker and die.

The man stood stock still, seemingly unable to comprehend the situation, as Will impatiently gestured to the hostages to make their way over to the police.

Still holding the remains of the staff in his hands, Will gave the would-be revolutionary a disgusted look and turned away. A moment later he stopped, seemed to reconsider the idea, then turned around and used the staff to give the man a good crack over the head. Once the man was on the ground, Will tossed the staff aside and vanished. The entire sequence of events took less than fifteen seconds.

Will reappeared in the sitting room behind Ororo and Rogue. He looked at them, gave them a very firm "Good Night," and walked out of the room.

Rogue and Ororo looked at each other for a very long moment, then fell off the couch laughing.


	66. Chapter 66

Betsy was in the middle of her morning jog, winding her way along the Institute's main driveway, when she saw the mail truck coming up Greymalkin Lane. Deciding that she could use the break anyway, she went up to the main gate and waved as the truck approached.

The carrier waved back and stopped the truck. "You might want some help," she told Betsy as she handed over a full bucket of mail. "You guys got a lot of catalogs today."

"It's better than bills," Betsy pointed out as she took it. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Once she was inside the gate again, Betsy took a moment to sort through and separate everything. She gave one large envelope a closer look when she noticed the return address, one of the 'cover' post office boxes that the Avengers used to send non-secure information to the Mansion.

She opened the envelope, and grinned when she saw the contents. Tossing everything back into the bucket, she started hefting it back to the Mansion. **_Jean?_**

_**Yes?**_

_**Could you give me a hand with the mail? We got a lot today.**_

_**Be right there.**_

Jean arrived about three minutes later and took hold of the bucket with her mind. "Got it."

"Thanks. We got a surprise today."

"What's that?"

Betsy showed her, and soon both women were laughing. "Okay," Jean said with a giggle, "we _have_ to do something with this."

Betsy thought for a moment. "I have an idea. I'll call Muir Isle, and you run this through a scanner. Get Rogue and Ororo, too. They'll want in."

"Right."

* * *

Will was gently shaken awake by Rogue. "Whu?"

"'Roro needs you downstairs," she told him apologetically. "She said it'll only take a few minutes."

He nodded and rolled out of bed, changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt as Rogue left the room. Putting on his glasses, he left the room and shuffled down the stairs, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.

"It's _him!_"

Will looked up with a snap, and nearly screamed in horror.

Hanging just above the stairs was a twice-life-size copy of the picture that Janet van Dyne had taken of him. Underneath it, in italics, was a caption: _Sexiest New Hero_.

At the base of the stairs stood Rogue, Ororo, Jean, Betsy, Kitty, Rahne, and Meggan. They were all wearing T-shirts that bore a copy of the picture, and the words _Archetype Fan Club_. In unison, they let out a girlish squeal.

At that point, Will did the sensible thing, fainting dead away.

Logan stepped out from behind the stairwell, shaking his head reprovingly. "You are cruel, cruel women."

_"Damn right!"_ was the cheerful reply.

* * *

A few minutes later, Will was revived through an application of smelling salts. He looked up, saw that the ladies were still wearing the T-shirts, and groaned. "It _wasn't_ a nightmare…"

"'Fraid not," Rogue told him with a smirk. "And it gets worse."

Will looked at her in disbelief. "How is that _possible_?" His voice squeaked slightly at the end.

Kitty handed him a sheet of paper. "The votes were tallied at a Web site. Take a look at the comments."

"I'd really rather not."

"Oh. Okay. I'll just read them to you, then." She smirked as Will's head thunked back against the couch.

"Gimme that," he said a moment later, snatching the paper from her and glancing at it.

_OMG he is like so hawt i want 2 hav his babies!11 we r totaly gunna get maried!1 OMG!1  
WTF! Liek ohmigawd That is SOOO Not TRu! i so h8! Him!111 Hes the Suxorz!111!_

_I SOOOO LUV HIM I WANT TO CARRY HIM OFF AND MAKE BABIES HE LOOKS JUST LEIK KIEFER DOESHN"T HE!_

_SQUUUEEEE! I So Voted 4 him! And heWONB! I so told that Natilie that He's WIn!_

Will covered his face with one hand. "I'm going to bury myself in the backyard," he announced. "You can wake me next spring."

"Oh come _on_," Meggan said, draping herself over his shoulders, "we're just getting _started_."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Okay, girls," Rogue said with a laugh, "let's break it up before I have to send him to an analyst."

Will glared at her as the other women left, still laughing. "This was your idea, wasn't it?"

"Betsy's, actually."

"That woman needs help," he muttered as he dragged himself back to bed.

* * *

After being awoken for dinner, Will spent some time in his workshop, where he began work on a new project: a potter's bench for Ororo. He was still cutting the lumber to size when Rogue came by. "You ready for bed yet?" she asked.

"I'm really not that tired. That nap threw off my body clock a bit. I'd like to get all of this cut before I turn in."

She nodded. "Don't stay up too late. We have a Danger Room session in the morning."

"I shouldn't be too long."

True to his word, he stepped back into their room about an hour later. He found Rogue was reading in bed. "What's the book?"

"_Mythic Ireland_. I was thinking at looking at some of the old sites the next time we're there."

He nodded approvingly and started undressing. "I have to get the sawdust out of my hair before I turn in. What time is our Danger Room session?"

"Eight. I have lunch duty, and you have dinner with Betsy."

"Great. I'll have to convince her that bangers and mash is _not_ a complete meal." He peeled off the rest of his clothes, tossing them down the laundry chute as he entered the bathroom. A few minutes later, the water reached a temperature that he liked, and he stood underneath the showerhead, eyes closed, as his muscles started to relax.

He opened one eye as he heard the click of the shower door opening. Rogue stepped in, dressed in her transparent body stocking and mask. "I thought you could use some help scrubbing your back."

"_There's_ an irresistible offer."

He turned around as she applied some body shampoo to a washcloth, working up a lather. Soon, he was rumbling in appreciation as she moved the cloth along the contours of his shoulders.

She followed the curve of his spine, applying just enough pressure to unknot his muscles, then nudged him to signal that he should turn around. Before she could even say anything, she found herself wrapped in his embrace, his lips pressed to hers.

Will's kisses were usually tender and gentle. This one was most definitely _not_. Hungry and passionate, its heat quickly stoked her own inner fire as well, and she responded to him with a gasp that matched her own need.

He slowly made his way down her body, nipping at the pulse point of her throat, while lightly tracing one hand down her side. She backed up until she hit the wall of the shower, pulling him along. Curling her arms around his neck, she floated up just enough to keep her weight from throwing him off-balance. She wrapped her legs around his waist, then laced the fingers of his right hand with her left, guiding it to where she wanted.

_Please_, her eyes begged him.

A moment later, she buried her head into his shoulder with a gasp. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she nodded at him to continue.

Because the sensations were so new for her, things progressed quickly, and he soon found that he had to support her weight, because she was unable to muster the concentration needed to fly, and her knees were to weak to support her weight. All she could voice was a babble of thoughts, which spoke of love and want and need and never leaving…

With a throaty sigh, she collapsed against him as the last of her energy was spent. The next few minutes were a blur as he carried her out of the shower, convincing her to stay awake long enough to sit on the lip of the tub while he quickly dried himself off and changed. Returning in a thin sweatsuit, gloves, socks, and a mask, he gently peeled her own clothing off her, then toweled her dry. He tied her hair back, then carried her over to the bed, turning off the lights as he spooned against her.

* * *

She awoke feeling all kinds of wonderful, light, and happy. Lifting her arms above her head, she let out a stretch that started at her fingertips and slowly moved down until it reached her toes. Opening her eyes, she turned over to awaken Will, then stopped.

She could tell instantly that, despite still being asleep, he was _not_ happy. His face was lined with strain and worry, and tension seemed to be etched into his muscles. She watched as his head moved from side to side, as if he were denying something.

Worried, she gently shook his shoulder. "Will? Will, wake up."

His eyes opened almost instantly. "Is it morning already?"

She nodded. "You okay?"

He blinked. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You looked like you were having a nightmare."

"Did I?" He looked like he was thinking for a moment. "Nothing I can recall."

She looked at him dubiously for a moment, but decided to drop the matter. He'd tell her when he was ready. "It's almost seven-fifteen," she told him. "We should grab breakfast, then suit up for practice."

* * *

"What's our objective today?" Bishop asked.

_"I thought we'd try something different today,"_ Xavier said from the control room. _"This will be a straight-out brawl."_

The walls of the Danger Room vanished, replaced by a seedy-looking bar, complete with about sixty appropriately seedy patrons.

_"Your goal is to be the last ones standing. Rogue, you'll be counted as down if you take a hit that would disable an average woman of your height and weight."_

"Got it. Non-lethal force only, right?"

"Right. Beginning in five… four…" 

"Triangle formation," Rogue informed Bishop and Will. "Two meters apart." They nodded and got into position.

_"…One."_

The room was instantly thrown into a frenzy of motion, as a veritable wall of bodies surged towards the trio. Will quickly set the tone by grabbing a nearby whiskey bottle and smashing it over the head of the first person who neared him. Bishop got into the spirit of things by throwing a chair, and Rogue, being the competitive sort, overturned a table and kicked it, sending it sliding across the room and bowling over several opponents. "That's three for me," she announced.

"Are we keeping score?" Bishop asked as he dodged a punch.

"It helps to keep track of things," Will informed him, ducking and weaving through the crowd. Pulling his cane out of the air, he gave it a quick twist in the center. It separated into two pieces, each about forty centimeters long. He quickly used these ersatz escrima sticks to down several of his opponents, As they fell to the floor, he shoved them off to the side, keeping them out from underfoot.

Picking up another table, Rogue utilized it as a battering ram, flying back and forth across the room and driving their antagonists against the walls.

The fight was over in minutes. The three X-Men stood in the center of the room, the floor around them littered with groaning bodies. "What was our time?" Bishop asked.

_"About four minutes,"_ Xavier replied.

"Not bad for no weapons."

"You just like the sound of gunfire," Rogue told him.

"… Your point…?"

* * *

After cleaning up from the session, Will got back to work on Ororo's bench. An hour or so of chiseling and planing got most of the mortise and tenon joinery done. He had modified the original plans for the bench so that it could be broken down into its component panels, then quickly reassembled later, to make winter storage easier.

Ororo came by just before lunch. "Very nice," she said, looking at the bench.

"Thank you. Did you want it stained?"

"I prefer the natural look of the wood, actually."

"I'll just put a few coats of deck finish on, then."

She nodded. "Why did you put the tool drawers off to the side?"

He answered by opening the two large doors on the bottom, which fell forward to reveal large, triangular bins. "One for soil, one for mulch. I lined the insides with laminate, which should be easy enough to clean."

"Is that why you put holes in the tabletop?"

"Right. You'll just have to brush everything in. The bins have drainage holes in the bottom, so things won't get waterlogged."

"And it comes apart?"

"The drawers slide out, the bins come off by removing the hinge pins, and you just unbolt the top and sides. It'll all fit into a corner of the greenhouse."

"You certainly earned a break. Lunch awaits."

* * *

Lunch, a collaborative effort between Rogue and Henry, was a light soup and salad combination. As they ate Will and Betsy conferred on the dinner menu, deciding to take some of the leftovers from the refrigerator and make a casserole. Once that was prepared, Will caught up on some paperwork for his businesses. He attempted to sort through some of his files as well, a project which quickly became sabotaged by Smoke, who decided that loose papers on the bed and floor were, under feline law, hers to claim as toys and bedding.

Rogue, fortunately, entered the room before Will was forced to commit any actions which would get him in trouble with the Humane Society. Biting back a laugh, she picked up Smoke, deposited her in the hall, and shut the door. "Want some help?" she asked.

"Could you? I just want to get this stuff into something resembling order."

Working together, they quickly arranged the files into chronological order, then into categories of interest, such as utilities, stocks, commodities, and retail businesses. Looking at one proposal, Will started another pile. "Let's call this one 'Research and Development,'" he said.

"Okay. What's the idea?"

"Electrostatic carbon reclamation. It'd be used to pull the loose carbon from industrial smokestacks. We'd need to quintuple the efficiency before it gets anywhere, though." He thought for a moment. "I wonder if the carbon would be pure enough to create buckyballs."

"Why's that?"

"Well, if I can make a profit by producing products that use buckyballs and nanoutubes using the reclaimed carbon, then I can knock down the prices for the scrubber units. That'd reduce the costs for industries, and being environmentally responsible would look much more attractive."

"Everybody comes out ahead."

"Pretty much."

After about an hour, they had worked their way through nearly half of the paperwork. Rogue labeled some hanging folders, and the sorted files were placed in the cabinets that Will had added to the bookcases. "Do you want this stuff scanned into your laptop?" she asked.

He considered it. "No, it'll take me longer to go through computer documents, and I need hard copies of most of this stuff for legal purposes, anyway. If I run out of room, I'll just build more cabinets, or rent a storage unit."

She nodded, glancing at the clock. "Didn't you want to put dinner in the over about now?"

He nodded back. "And I should heat up some veggies while I'm at it."

"Corn?"

"Works for me."

* * *

The alarm claxon sounded just as dinner was being placed on the table. Will and Betsy let out identical growls of frustration, which Logan found incredibly amusing. "Hey, at least you weren't in the shower," he commented. He noticed that Rogue blushed at that statement, but said nothing.

Will teleported to the War Room ahead of the others, and walked up to Bishop, who sat at the monitors. "What's the situation?"

"Juggernaut and Black Tom. Bank robbery, looks like."

"Lovely."

The rest of the team arrived about ninety seconds later, and Bishop filled them in. "Where are they?" Ororo asked Bishop.

"Downtown Atlanta. The financial district."

"Great," Warren groused. "I have a branch office down there."

Bobby looked at the clock. "Just past six. The area's still going to be packed."

Will turned to Ororo. "I have an idea."

* * *

Cain Marko stomped his way down South Washington Avenue, ignoring the police cars that followed him. He noted with approval that no one had opened fire on him. He didn't like hurting civilians, and any bullets that ricocheted off him could hit somebody in the crowd.

He gritted his teeth when he saw the X-Men about a block away from him_. Why couldn't they have decided to pick on Magneto today? He's overdue, anyway_.

He blinked when one of them raised his hands in a peace gesture and started walking towards him, alone. He decided to stop and wait. _I don't recognize him. Must be new_.

"Good evening, Mister Marko. I'm Archetype. I have a proposal for you."

Cain braced himself for a trick. "What is it?"

He glanced at the sack of money that Cain carried. "What's the ballpark figure on your take?"

Cain thought about it for a moment. "About three-quarters of a mil."

The man nodded. "If you give me five minutes, I will give you, from my own funds, that exact amount. It will be in U.S. bearer bonds, coupons attached. Much easier to transport and hide than cash, and untraceable besides. In exchange, you give us the cash, to be returned to the bank, and we all walk away from this without causing any damage."

Cain needed a moment to process all of that. "You want to _pay me off?_"

"I want to avoid a fight that'll do nothing but cause damage… damage that will cost more to fix than you stole. I won't miss the money. I'm rich enough for it not to matter. But that bank may have problems."

"… And you'll just let me walk away?"

"Did you cause any damage?"

"Not this time."

"Then what reason would there be for us to fight?"

"… You got five minutes."

* * *

"That was somewhat anticlimactic," Henry said at the dinner table twenty minutes later.

"Would you have preferred a fight that did nothing but get us injured?" Will asked as he poured himself a glass of water.

"Well, no… but it seems morally questionable to me."

"How so? Did I ask him to commit an illegal act? Did I take any funds away from the bank? Did I commit fraud against any person or group? No, no, and no. It was unusual, but it was in _no_ way unethical."

"How are you going to explain losing a quarter million to Jeff at your next budget meeting?" Rogue asked him.

"I won't have to. The account that I took those bonds from predates my retaining Jeff. I've never told him about it, and he doesn't know it exists."

"But where'd the money come from in the first place?"

"When I started to really concentrate on making money, I had Jeff put me on a monthly allowance. I intentionally overestimated what I'd need, then took the excess and put it into bonds."

"Does the I.R.S. know about it?" Bobby asked.

"Don't see why they would. It's in a safe deposit box in Monte Carlo."

"And how much is in there?"

"…Mmmm, about one hundred eighty mil, plus or minus five."

"And that's your emergency stash?"

"No, that's my _untraceable_ stash. My emergency stash comes to somewhere between thirty and forty billion. Not all of that is liquid, though, so I'll take a loss if I cash out suddenly."

Warren complained of a headache and left the table.

"But back to our original subject," Henry interjected. "Do you think it wise to make deals with our opponents?"

"It depends on what you think our objectives are. Do we want to concentrate on confrontation with them, doing out damnedest to take them down, or should we focus on harm reduction, and accept the fact that we're never going to bring _everyone_ around to our point of view? In fact, I'd argue that our opponents are an integral part of a diverse society. If we didn't have anyone working against us, then I'd be worried about _our_ message and methods."

"Why's that?" Jean asked.

"Think about it. Name the three main political entities that are run by superhumans: Latveria, Avalon, and Genosha. All of them are, either mostly, or totally, fascist states, that have used superpowers as a way to control their populace. All three isolate themselves from the outside world, and all three keep a tight rein on personal freedoms, preventing the formation of any political opposition. Doom manages it through his technology, along with the fact that the state enjoys the near-monopoly of a planned economy. Magneto's created what's basically a cult of personality. He controls the economy, too, since only he, Exodus, and a teleporter or two can come down from orbit to get any supplies. I wouldn't be surprised if he restricted media access up there, too. And from what I've read on the old Genoshan regime, their creation of the mutate system was _religiously_ based as much as it was economically. They seem to have merged the Dutch Reformed Church with the principles of the Christian Identity movement to justify their actions. Given those examples, I wouldn't be too optimistic about any future mutant-dominant societies."

"I have to admit, that isn't much of a track record," Xavier said. "Do you think it's an automatic risk for any superhuman involvement in politics or social reform?"

Will thought about it for a moment. "Depends on whether the government in question has guaranteed the personal liberties of its citizens. Are constitutional safeguards in place, or can they be wiped away by whoever's in power? And what difference, if any, is there in the legal status of superhumans and baseline humans?"

"How so?"

He shrugged and pointed to Logan. "There's a man who walks around with deadly weapons in his hands. Legally, is that any different than carrying a concealed firearm? Do we make a distinction between the two? Should individuals who have potentially deadly powers be obligated to register themselves as deadly weapons, or to carry indemnity insurance to cover damage that they might cause?

"What about medical issues? Henry, some mutant physiologies require unusual treatments, right?"

"Of course."

"That raises issues of medical confidentiality, insurance coverage, and practitioner safety. Does a doctor about to treat an emergency admission have a right to know that their patient has an ability that could pose a risk to others? If the power is consciously controlled, what's the result when the patient is in agonizing pain, or sedated? What about possible contraindications between medications and a specific power? If the doctor doesn't know about the mutation, and administers treatment that results in harm, can they be held liable?"

"Those are valid concerns," Henry admitted, "but they're being buried under anti-mutant hysteria."

"Then we have to set the terms of the discussion before the fringe groups, be they the F.O.H. or the M.L.F., become the ones in control of it."

"And how would you do that?" Ororo asked him.

"By re-framing the argument entirely. The mutant/human conflict has been approached like a _social_ struggle, but I think that its nature is better reflected by perceiving it as an _economic_ struggle.

"If I went up to somebody on the street, and asked them their opinion about Spider-Man, or the Fantastic Four, or Iron Man, I'd generally get a positive response. That's because their origins, however unlikely, are _not_ out of the realm of possibility in the mind of the average person. They're viewed as people who hit the lottery.

"Mutants, on the other hand, are born with their abilities, although most don't show up until later in life. You're either a mutant or you're not, and there's no way to change that. Mutants are the idle rich, an aristocracy of power, and they're resented in the same way.

"Magneto is the poster boy for 'evil' mutants, and, unfortunately, his background and mannerisms reinforce the idea of being aristocratic. He's arrogant, well-educated, European, scientific, and emotionally cold… all qualities that American society associates with the aristocracy. So an individual's reaction to him is based on their perception of his social status just as much, if not more, than by his status as a mutant."

"And what about us?" Jean asked.

"Depends on what team you're talking about. X-Factor, in its current form, is playing by the rules set for it by the government, so while they lose some autonomy, they gain a lot of credibility with law enforcement and the media. Excalibur's links with the British government are a bit looser, but they still manage to work within the system and get a sympathetic response from the public. X-Force manages to stay under the public radar, so it's not really an issue. But there was quite a bit of resentment against X-Factor back when you lived on that ship, because you were perceived as being separate from, and literally above, the public, even if it was unintentional on your part.

"As for us… to be honest, sometimes I think you've hurt your cause just as much as you've helped. It. You've saved the world on multiple occasions, but you've managed to flatten big chunks of it in the process." He paused for a moment, thinking. "That's not a bad idea…"

"What's not?" Xavier asked him.

"Setting up a trust fund to compensate for property damage resulting from our battles. I can fund it anonymously at first, then own up to it later if I ever decide to go public. Could somebody please write that down before I forget about it?"

"Already done," Ororo said, as she scribbled on her PDA. "Any other ideas?"

"Has this become a brainstorming session?"

"Why not?"

"All right, then. Just to toss out an idea… how about a team geared specifically towards repairing environmental damage? They could be sent to areas that have been devastated… either through a natural disaster or the idiocy of man… and help restore things." He leaned back and thought for a moment. "An ideal roster for that team would be… Meggan, Ororo, Pyro, and Bobby."

"Why?" Ororo asked. "Wait, I get it. Earth, Air, Fire, and Water."

"And it's gender-balanced," Rogue pointed out. "Adds to the power."

"Right," Will continued. "It wouldn't have to be a formal team… just something that we could assemble quickly if an emergency came up."

"I don't know," Henry mused. "Actually, given the acceleration of environmental degradation, a permanent team might not be a bad idea. Their preventative work could be more valuable, in the long run, then rescue operations. Let me do some research on the idea."

"I have to admit, that sort of team would be a public relations bonanza," Scott said, "but we'd probably run into problems with various governments."

"We could run it through SHIELD," Logan suggested. "Nick could cut through most of the bureaucratic crap for us, and he'd leave us alone, for the most part. I'll run the idea by him next poker night at Ben Grimm's."

Will nodded and stood up. "I'll give Stephen a call and see if he has any suggestions that would help… oh, hell, let's just call it the Green Team." Picking up his dishes, he left for the kitchen.

"He just undercut Magnus' entire philosophy with a two-minute argument," Xavier noted in amazement. "I'm tempted to take him to Avalon with me just so I can watch him make my old friend's head explode."

* * *

Rogue entered their room just as Will was finishing a telephone conversation:

"Okay, is she being trained by anyone right now? Do you have a contact number for her? Sure, she can call whenever she finds the time. Okay, thanks, Stephen. I'll let you know what she says."

"What who says?" she asked once he had hung up.

"A young lady by the name of Topaz. She's an empathic healer who's worked with Stephen before, and she has quite a bit of magical talent, besides. I'd like to find out how she'd feel about working with us. Stephen also seems to think that we can help each other along with our training."

"That's worth looking into, at least," she agreed as she flopped onto the bed. "Feel like doing anything?"

He thought for a moment. "Bookstore run?"

"I'll get my purse."

* * *

They returned an hour or so later, Rogue with a few magazines and a bodice-ripper, Will with a stack that represented a good-sized chunk of the Dewey Decimal System. "How you manage to keep track of four different plot lines at once is beyond me," she told him.

"It's not that tough. I'm usually reading a novel, a history book, and something contemporary. I know it's time to start focusing when I get the mental picture of Hugh de Payens spouting off Objectivist philosophy while driving a Jeep during Patton's invasion of Sicily."

"I can see that."

She changed clothes as he put his books away, and curled up against him as they settled into bed. They had barely gotten the covers straightened before Smoke jumped up and made herself comfortable in the space between them.

"You're cramping my style, cat," Rogue complained as she shut off the light.

* * *

_Author's Note_: Thanks to eliseblithe and alectroven of _Sages of Chaos_ for the 'fangirl talk'.

_Picture if you will_: A man sits at a desk, staring at a computer in shock, smoke billowing from his ears. The Arizona Iced Tea slips from his hand and falls to the floor. He's just realized that his little 'hobby' has passed the 500-page mark. He thinks about how much he has left to do, and groans.

_Hobby, my ass_, he thinks…


	67. Chapter 67

The speaker at the Mansion gate crackled to life. _"Yes?"_

"This is Topaz. I have an appointment with Mister Riley."

_"Please proceed along the main road. Someone will greet you at the entrance."_

The stylish little green MG convertible, which bore a bumper sticker stating _Magic Happens_, cruised lazily up the to the Mansion. Will, Rogue, Xavier, and Bobby stood just outside the doorway, waiting patiently as the car approached.

The woman who stepped out of the car appeared to be about Kitty's age, give or take a year. Her features and dark brown skin suggested Indian or Pakistani ancestry, a suggestion which was bolstered by the _kurta_ pants and silk halter top which she wore. A silver anklet hung on one leg, several bangle bracelets were on her wrists, and an assortment of charms dangled on a chain around her neck. She walked on bare feet towards them.

"When did we start recruiting Deadheads?" Bobby murmured.

_Whap!_

"Thank you, Rogue," Will said as he took a step forward "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Topaz."

The young woman smiled. "No Miss needed, Mister Riley."

"Welcome to the Institute, young lady," Xavier said in greeting.

"Or the Institution," Bobby piped. "We're never quite sure which."

_Whap!_

"Thank you, Rogue. We've cleared a room in the ladies' wing for you, Topaz. Would you like help moving your things in?"

"That won't be necessary, sir. I'll just conjure up some things when I get there." Stepping back to her car, she reached in and retrieved a cardboard box, filled with books, and a small knapsack. "This is all I need for now."

Will offered to carry the books, and they made their way up to the women's wing. A door was opened to one of the westward-facing rooms. It was rather sparsely furnished with a bed, nightstand, bureau, and desk. "I didn't think you'd appreciate the morning sun shining into your eyes," Xavier explained. "Will's informed me that sorcerers are rarely morning people. If he's a representative sample, I agree."

"Well, it's definitely true for me," Topaz replied. "One of the first spells that Stephen taught me was how to conjure up a cup of coffee."

"I need to learn that spell," Bobby muttered to himself.

"If you want any help redecorating," Rogue offered, "I'll be glad to lend a hand."

"I appreciate that. I'll probably use spells for most of the work, though."

"Will that affect electronics the way Will does?" Xavier asked.

"Not that I've ever noticed."

Xavier nodded approvingly. "On a related subject, do you want a computer?"

"It's probably not a bad idea," she mused. "I've been meaning to copy some my old training notes, anyway."

"You could always label the drive as your 'Hard Disk of Shadows'," Will suggested.

This time, Bobby got to _do_ the hitting.

* * *

Rogue knocked on the door to Topaz's room a few hours later.

"Come in."

Rogue looked around the room as she stepped in. "Very nice," she commented. Several tapestries now hung on the walls, and the floor was covered with a series of ornate rugs. A small incense burner was emitting wisps of smoke which gave the air the scent of orange blossoms.

Topaz sat, lotus-style, in the middle of a circle that she had drawn on the floor. "Thank you. Did you need anything?"

"Just wanted to invite you down for dinner."

"One moment." She made a few quick gestures, and the circle glowed yellow for a moment, then faded. She then stood up and walked towards the door. "What are we having?"

"Well, Will didn't know how you'd feel about beef, so tonight it's chicken, sage stuffing, and roasted corn."

"Beef isn't a problem for me," she said as they went down the stairs. "I wasn't actually raised as a Hindi."

"You weren't?"

"No. I'm the latest in a long line of mystics, and we've tended to live by our own rules."

"That seems to happen a lot around here," Ororo commented form her chair at the dining room table. "I must say, I _love_ your outfit."

"Thank you. Want me to whip up something like it for you?"

Ororo considered it. "Maybe later."

"Why don't you sit near Will and me?" Rogue suggested. "You two can brainstorm while we eat."

Will and Bobby brought the food out as the women talked. Ororo noticed that Bobby kept sneaking glances at Topaz. "You may have a fan," she told the young woman.

Topaz grinned sheepishly. "This outfit probably helps. Wait until he sees me in my magical garb."

"A little skimpy?" Rogue asked.

"Let's just say that if there's a breeze, I'll know it."

Once dinner was underway, Will, Topaz, and Xavier discussed a training regimen. "I'd like to make sure that you get some physical training," Xavier told Topaz.

She chuckled, then rather casually tucked her left foot behind her ear. "Daily yoga sessions since I began my mystical training. Some of the advanced postures have made me a bit stronger than I look."

"I always wanted to try yoga," Rogue confessed. "Could you teach me some of the basic forms?"

"No problem." She looked at Will. "With your permission, of course."

"Why would you need my permission for that?"

"Well, you're my master now, so…"

"Hold it," Will said firmly. "Let's make something clear right now. I am your _teammate_. I am your _housemate_. One day, you might call me your _friend_. But I am _not_ your master, or anyone else's. I don't believe in that system."

Topaz blinked for a moment, then nodded with a smile. "Got it. Sorry for making the assumption. I'm sort of used to the way I was trained by Stephen."

"That's understandable. Besides, I have a feeling that you're a more powerful sorcerer than I am, anyway."

She took a moment to consider that. "Depends on the application you're talking about. I'm definitely the stronger empath, but you have access to a wider range of psychic abilities than I do. You can draw from a larger pool of power, too. It's primarily a matter of teaching you how to channel it. If I had the knowledge, I'd start by teaching you Druidic magic."

"If you don't have the knowledge," Xavier asked, "then who does?"

"No one. The last Druid, Anthony Ludgate, died from a gunshot wound about a year ago."

"It's possible that the knowledge still exists somewhere within the collective consciousness," Henry ventured.

"_More_ than possible," Will confirmed. "_Nothing_ is _ever_ completely forgotten. I just have to search deeply enough."

"That may not be a good idea," Topaz cautioned him. "Ludgate's reign as The Last Druid wasn't a long one."

"True, but let's be honest: he wasn't running on all cylinders _before_ he got the power boost. His new abilities just made a bad situation worse. I like to think that I'm a bit more grounded than he was, and I don't take myself nearly as seriously."

"_That_, I can agree with. Okay, partners it is. What time of day do you want to train? I'm at my best in the early evenings."

"Same here. An hour or so after dinner sound good?"

"That works."

"Would this be every night?" Rogue asked.

"It'd probably be best if he meditated every evening, but we wouldn't necessarily have to train. Why?"

"Just making sure we get enough personal time, that's all."

"Fair enough. I'll need time to keep an eye on my businesses, anyway."

Will blinked. "I didn't know you had any. What are they?"

"Well, I still have a stake in the Voodoo Lounge, and I have a one-third share in a bookstore and coffeehouse in Greenwich Village."

"Which one?"

"Magical Grounds."

"Who has the other shares?"

"Jennifer Kale and Satana."

Will blinked again. "You're three of the most powerful sorceresses on the planet, and you run a _coffeehouse_?"

She shrugged. "It's a nice cover, and it's flexible enough that Jennifer can finish her degree at Empire State." She smirked. "Besides, it's not like we'd be able to get Satana to do anything involving physical labor."

"How is she at the job?"

"She tends to be more interested in the jocks than the java, but she gets things done eventually."

"How do your partners feel about your being here?" Ororo asked.

"We talked about it, and we decided that it was too good an opportunity to pass up." Her face became more serious. "And we though it would be a good idea to present an alternative to Stephen's viewpoint."

"I wasn't aware of any conflict between you," Xavier said in surprise. "He simply told me that you had left his service."

"I didn't leave. I was dismissed because I stood up to him on what I considered a matter of principle."

"After dinner," Will told her, "We'll discuss just what that principle was."

* * *

An hour later, Will was talking angrily into his phone:

"I'm sorry, Stephen, but I'm with the ladies on this one: you were _way_ out of line. That tome is bound to a genetic line. Did you consider what the ramifications would be of taking it away from the bloodline? And what happens when the protective spells fail? Your place _has_ been known to be under attack from time to time, if you'll recall.

"This smells like a setup to me, Stephen… a way to keep an eye on the ladies, through me. I'll give you an advance notice: do _not_ expect me to talk with you about my activities with Topaz, or about any information she gives me regarding her friends. Good. I'll call you in a week or so regarding a training session. Goodbye, Stephen."

He looked over to Topaz as he shut off the phone. "Sorry about all that."

"Don't worry about it. It's hardly your fault." She was sprawled in his easy chair, ticking Smoke, who was nearly delirious with appreciation. "I was half expecting Stephen to try something like this, anyway."

"I still don't appreciate being manipulated. I've played it straight with Stephen from the beginning, and this is like a slap in the face," He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, causing Rogue, who was lying on her stomach, to bounce slightly. "Will this affect your standing in the magical community if it gets out?"

"Not really. I hadn't been training with Stephen for very long when he and I parted ways. Jennifer, 'Tana and I try to play off one another now, trying to find new approaches to using our magic. I think we're all progressing fairly well, but we aren't active enough to attract any unwanted attention."

"What sorts of magic do you do?" Rogue asked.

"We like to say that we cover the bases. My specialty is healing magic, and its qualities mean that I have to be attuned to the world of nature. Jennifer is a conjurer, and seems to be the best of us at defensive spells. And 'Tana, of course, deals best with the darker forces. She's our resident summoner, too."

"So what does she do with that?"

"…Let's just say that the heat source for our shop's ovens isn't covered by the building code."

"I'd love to watch you explain that to the building inspector."

Topaz smirked. "'Tana has a knack for distracting men." She picked Smoke up from her lap, setting the cat back onto the floor. Smoke gave her a meow of complaint.

"Don't get greedy," Will advised her. "You'll get more attention later."

"I think I'll turn in," Topaz said as she stood up, then bent down to touch her toes. "I do my morning routine at about ten, Rogue, if you're interested in learning."

"Okay. Want to do it in your room or the gym?"

"I think we'll have enough space in my room. Just make sure you knock first. I meditate before starting my routine, and I don't want to give a show."

"How's that?"

"I meditate in the nude," she said with a wicked smile as she walked to the door. "Night."

"Why do the women in my life always want me to picture them naked?" Will asked plaintively as the door shut.

"It's fun watching you fight your impulses," Rogue told him with a grin.

* * *

Rogue knocked on the door to Topaz's room at ten the next morning. She stepped in at the younger woman's invitation, finding that Topaz was dressed in a light cotton robe.

"I'll be ready in a minute," Topaz said as she tied her hair back. "Just let me slip into something."

"No problem," Rogue said as she set down an exercise mat that she had grabbed from the gymnasium.

Topaz quickly dressed in a bandeau bra, tank top, and a pair of cutoffs. "You know how to do abdominal breathing?"

Rogue nodded. "Meditation, too."

"Good. We can move straight to the poses, then." She stepped onto her own mat. "We'll start with the basics. This one's called the Sun Salutation."

An hour of poses later, Rogue had managed to stretch muscles she didn't know she had. "That was a different kind of workout," she commented as she rolled one shoulder.

"You're probably used to weight training, right? The poses are designed to get your muscles working in harmony, not pit them against one another. Don't worry, your body will get used to the new positions in a few sessions." She raised one leg up until her foot was pointing towards the ceiling. "You're already in fantastic shape, so you should move along fairly quickly. Would Will be interested in joining us?"

Rogue thought about it. "I'm not sure. He has problems with his lower back, so his mobility's a bit limited sometimes."

"He could ease into it. His flexibility should return after a while. Have you tried massage?"

Rogue nodded. "I'm using a mix of Swedish, shiatsu, and deep tissue. He's responding pretty well." She gathered up her mat. "I should make sure he's up. See you downstairs."

Will was just stepping out of their bedroom when she arrived. "I've got a Danger Room session with Ororo," he told her. "See you at lunch?"

"Actually, I'd like to watch. You and 'Roro don't spar that often."

"Fair enough."

Fifteen minutes later, Rogue stood beside Xavier and Henry and watched as Ororo used wind and lightning to keep several mechanized opponents at bay. Will had been surrounded by drones, but managed to punch and slice his way through them, joining Ororo in the center of the room.

"Any suggestions, Boss?" he asked.

"I'll hold them back while you make a run for the kill switch."

"Yes, Ma'am." He switched to enhanced speed and started weaving in between the drones.

When he was about halfway towards the switch, he heard Ororo cry out. Whirling around, he saw that she had been knocked down by a drone, which was closing in for the kill.

Will's instincts took over. Forgetting all about the rules of the session, he teleported across the room and used his sword to decapitate the drone. A moment later, he opened a small Door to a spot just in front of the kill switch. Shoving his free arm into the Door, he hit the switch, ending the program.

"Henry, get down here!" he barked, bending down to check Ororo's condition.

"That won't be necessary," Ororo said as she rolled onto her back and stood up.

Will blinked, then scowled. "You _played_ me?" he asked in a quiet, cold voice.

_"We wanted to see how quickly you'd react and make it back to her,"_ Xavier told him over the intercom.

"Professor," Rogue told him in a warning tone, "It might be a good idea to pipe down. Right now."

"What?" He wheeled around to face her. "Why?"

The lights above them started to flicker.

"That's why."

Panels all over the Danger Room began to short out. The air around Will seemed to darken, even as his eyes blazed. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

_"This makes twice, in less than a day, that I've been manipulated, Storm. It's gotten old **very** quickly."_ He turned his back on her and stalked towards the door. When Xavier made no move to open it, Rogue hit the switch just in time for Will to walk unimpeded through the doorway.

Xavier glared at Rogue. "I wanted to slow him down so that he could calm down a bit."

"He was a heartbeat away from teleporting away half the damn wall," she snapped back. "You're lucky he didn't fry half the Mansion. He's furious. And he has every right to be. You _did_ play him. You didn't need to know how he'd react. He went through exactly the same thing in Salt Lake City. Now he's going to be anxious as hell around me for days, worried about getting me hurt. Brilliant move, guys."

* * *

She found him in his workshop. He had taken off his coat and hat, and was pounding away with a hammer on a red-hot piece of steel. He didn't seem to be as interested in an end product so much as getting some pounding done.

He glanced up as she approached. "I don't want to talk about it!" he snapped.

"I'm not asking you to. I'm as pissed as you are." She took a piece of bar stock from the scrap metal pile and started twisting it like a wet rag. "I can't believe that they'd even _think_ of using you like that. If they wanted you to push yourself, all they had to do was ask."

He glanced at her, then down at the metal bar. "Could you keep that up along the whole length? I might be able to use that in a project one of these days."

Rogue looked at the bar, shrugged, then twisted it until it spiraled along its full span. "Here you go."

"Thanks," he said as he took the bar from her and placed it in a corner. He glanced over her shoulder as he turned back to her. "Hello, Topaz."

Rogue turned around to look at the younger woman. "I take it you felt that?"

"I have to be comatose _not_ to, What happened?"

"I lost my temper," Will admitted.

"With good reason," Rogue pointed out.

Topaz thought for a moment. "Would it help if you could vent against something?"

"Such as?"

"May I?" she asked, gesturing towards an open area of floor. At Will's nod, she moved so that she had about two meters of room on either side of her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep abdominal breath, then raised her arms above her head, palms toward one another. A stream on energy passed between her hands, coalescing into a sphere about the size of a pinball. A gesture from her raised the sphere until it almost touched the ceiling. Topaz swept her arms downward, and a cascade of light flowed down from the sphere, forming a cone whose base touched the floor.

Topaz stepped towards the edge of the barrier, reaching into it with both hands. The energy parted like a curtain as she walked through, then sealed shut behind her.

"'Tana has a bit of a temper," she explained, "so Jennifer and I put our heads together to come up with a way for her to let out some aggression without breaking out repair budget."

"Good planning," Rogue said. "How does it work?"

Topaz reached in front of her, and plucked a small doll, about the size of her open palm, from the air. It was humanoid in shape, but the head had no hair or features. Topaz tossed it into the circle. The doll lay on the ground for a moment, then began to move, standing up and facing Topaz. It slowly grew in size, the limbs and muscles becoming more defined as it did so. It grew until it was about two meters tall, appearing to be a somewhat muscular man… minus a face – or a 'package'.

"Meet Marvin," Topaz announced.

Will raised an eyebrow. "Marvin?"

"Jennifer's idea. Short for 'Marvin the Magic Masochistic Mannequin'. Slap him, punch him, stab him, burn him… and he comes back for more."

Will looked intrigued. "Does the circle animate him or keep him contained?"

"Both. We've been working on adding combat techniques to teach us some self-defense, so we thought that keeping him boxed in was good idea. He's passive right now, though, so you can use him as a punching bag."

"How much punishment can he take?" Rogue asked.

"I'd probably have to come up with some reinforcement spells for you or Wolverine," she said after a moment's thought. "Let me talk to Jennifer and see what she thinks."

"An average strength punch or kick is fine, though?" Will inquired.

"Right. Even if you sever a limb, he'll just put it back on. Same for the head."

He nodded. "Let's give it a try."

Topaz parted the barrier for him, and he stepped into the circle. He rolled his sleeves up a bit, then approached 'Marvin', rolling his neck on his shoulders as he did so.

Topaz winced as she heard the pop of Will's vertebrae. "You weren't kidding about his joints," she muttered to Rogue.

"And he's in fairly _good_ shape today."

"Ow." She glanced at his tattoos. "The Sidhe did those, right?"

Rogue nodded. "And believe me, _that_ was an eventful night."

Will threw a punch which hit the mannequin across the jaw. The figure took the blow with moderate resistance, then returned to its original stance. "Feels like flesh and bone," he commented. "Can you vary the size and build?"

"A little bit," Topaz told him. "I'd have to stay within human adult norms, though."

"Is there a female version?" Rogue asked.

"I could come up with one fairly easily. 'Tana already came up with a name for it. 'Polly the Poppet Punching Bag'."

"I have _got_ to meet this girl."

They were interrupted when 'Marvin' slammed against the barrier. They looked at Will, whose leg was still extended in a kick.

"Feel better?" Topaz asked him.

He seemed to consider it for a moment. "A bit."

"Want to come out?"

"Please." He stepped out of the fading circle as 'Marvin' shrunk back down to poppet-size. "How do you feel about Harry's for lunch?" he asked the two women. "I think I'd have a hard time being civil to certain people right now."

* * *

Once Will cleaned himself up, they took Rogue's Miata to Harry's, where they found a quiet booth in the back.

"Did Stephen mention any details about my ideas for a team?" Will asked Topaz once they had placed their orders.

"Just that it was geared towards repairing ecological damage."

"That's the basic idea. I don't want us doing anything too radical… just finding ways to improve on what Nature would do on its own, and removing things that would be long-term threats, like radioactive or chemical waste."

Topaz nodded. "Well, I can heal injured animals… and even plants, to some degree. I wouldn't be much help against a forest fore, or toxic waste."

"I'm going to see if I can contact Pyro for when deal with fires. As for toxic waste, I may just teleport it into the sun's gravitational well, or down to the Earth's outer core. Your talents really wouldn't really come into play until _after_ the cleanup. We'd try to patch up the most crucial parts of the ecosystem, then let Nature handle the rest on its own."

"Triage, not major surgery."

"Exactly."

"You know," Rogue ventured, "On a smaller scale, you could also clean up brownfields in the poorer areas of cities. It's not something that anybody really focuses on, and would have a big on public health."

Topaz nodded. "That would do _me_ some good, too."

"Why's that?"

She grimaced. "I can be… a bit of a snob sometimes. It's comes from the social isolation that you get in the magical community. I'm nowhere near as bad as I used to be, but a little lesson in humility once in a while would still help."

"You could say that for most of the X-Men," Rogue assured her. "I mean, _I've_ never held a nine-to-five job."

"You worked for _me_," Will pointed out.

"Doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"It was a temp job, and I was sleeping with the boss."

"This is going to be a _fun_ job," Topaz said with a grin.

* * *

"How will I fit into the chores schedule?" Topaz asked as they drove back.

"We haven't talked about it yet," Will admitted. "We'll try to keep you off breakfast shift as much as possible. I _would_ like you to take self-defense lessons with Logan. I don't expect you to wind up in combat, but I'd prefer it if you had some training, just in case."

"Believe me, I'd appreciate some. It'd be nice to be able to hold my own in a fight for once." She smiled wryly. "It's hard to be intimidating when you're five-foot-three."

"Our uniforms are armored," Rogue pointed out. "That should help you a bit. I could help you design one."

"Okay. I'll change into my magical garb when we get back. We can use it as a model."

* * *

Bobby was stepping out of the elevator from the lower levels of the mansion when he heard Rogue's voice from around the corner of the hallway, coming closer. He opened his mouth to say hello, but was interrupted when Rogue and Topaz came into his view.

Mostly because he nearly swallowed his tongue.

Topaz was wearing a top with elbow-length, billowing sleeves, which hung off her bare shoulders, and which were attached to a bandeau top that barely constrained her breasts. A skirt hung off each hip, crossing at the top of her waist, leaving a _lot_ of leg exposed, and pretty much putting every curve the woman had on display. She slinked down the hallway, giving Bobby a come-hither smile as she passed by.

"Hello, Mister Drake," she purred.

He managed to keep from fainting until the elevator doors closed.

* * *

Topaz was giggling as she and Rogue stepped out of the elevator. "Oh, he;s going to provide me with _lots_ of entertainment."

"Bobby's mind is fun to play with," Rogue told her. "It was twisted to begin with, so you never feel too bad."

Once they reached the 'tailor from hell', Rogue looked Topaz up and down. "Okay, why don't we try a dark purple bodysuit, with gold piping for highlights? The color scheme would be fairly close to what you're wearing now."

Topaz thought about it. "That could work. I could even put some protective wards on the thing to give me an extra layer of defense."

"Nice idea. Wonder if it would work for Will."

"I don't see why it wouldn't. I could embroider them into the lining of his coat and vest."

"We'll bring it up with him later. You want a coat?"

"Yes, but no sleeves. I need a full range of motion in my arms to cast spells."

"Okay. Gloves?"

"…Mmm, yes, but keep them short. I need to touch things to heal them."

"No problem. Just let the machine get your measurements, and we're all set."

Topaz stepped out of the 'tailor' a few minutes later. "What do you think?"

"Pretty subtle, as costumes go. We'll see if Will and Logan give their okay."

Will nodded approvingly at the costume, though he was concerned about a lack of weaponry. "I'd like you to have something on hand, if only as a last resort," he told Topaz. "Would you object to a knife or two?"

"So long as it doesn't get in my way."

"I'll make something you can slip into a boot. Any problem with steel?"

Topaz shook her head. "My magic won't be affected by it."

"Okay, then. Let's see Logan about your evaluation."

* * *

Logan was impressed by Topaz's flexibility – she seemed lithe enough to literally bend over backward – but felt that she would be better off learning defensive techniques, and using her magic for offense. She agreed readily enough, and demonstrated her talents in that area by destroying several target drones with a few hand gestures.

"Just keep in mind that I prefer _healing_ injuries to _inflicting_ them," she said once she finished.

Logan nodded. "Just wanted to make sure that you can take care of yourself if things go sour. I know that a few merc teams work for multinational corporations, and they might not like attention being drawn to the damage they've caused."

"And we might have trouble from the other extreme," Will pointed out. "Monkeywrenchers, or the EarthFirst! Contingent."

"Good point." She bent down and touched her forehead to her knees. "If we're done, I'd like to get some meditation in before dinner."

"You can go," Logan told her. "I'll need a few days to set up a training program for you. I'll let you know when it's ready."

"Okay. See you at dinner."

* * *

Ororo approached Will as they sat down for dinner. "I'm sorry for this morning. It was thoughtless of me."

Will sighed. "I'll admit, I overreacted a bit. But, Ororo… next time you want to know how I'll react in a situation, just _ask_ me, all right?"

"I will."

Rogue noted with some amusement that Bobby took the seat next to Topaz. This should be fun to watch.

After seeing several failed attempts by Bobby to enter the conversation between her and Topaz, Rogue decided to take pity on him. "You haven't seen Salem Center, right?" she asked Topaz. "I have monitor duty tomorrow, so is it okay is somebody else gives you the tour?"

"No problem," Topaz said with a wink.

"Bobby," she asked, leaning forward a bit to see him better, "can you play tour guide for me? I'll owe you one." _You so owe **me** one._

"Sure!" He said instantly. "I'll even throw in lunch at Harry's."

"Harry's?" Topaz asked, an innocent look on her face. "What's that?"

_Oh, yeah,_ Rogue thought to herself, _she'll fit in just **fine**._


	68. Chapter 68

THE ARCHETYPE ASSOCIATION

By Jim R. McBriarty

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

_**Author's Note**: Many apologies for the delay in this chapter. Pressure at work, in combination with events that required a bit of travel, sapped my creative energies dry. Things have become a bit more bearable lately, and so I hope to get back to regular updates. Thanks for your continued support._

The X-Men adjusted quickly to the Mansion's newest resident - a task made easy by the fact that Topaz had a basically sunny, friendly disposition... once she had her second cup of coffee. Before that, she was simply too vague to hold a conversation. She introduced some Bengali Indian dishes to the dinner menu, such as chandu daal and pilau rice. Since she was, technically, Will's student, Xavier allowed a lot of leeway in regards to her schedule. Will decided to give her time to transcribe all of her old training notes before the moved on to anything new. This gave her most of the late afternoon to train with Logan or to socialize - either with the other X-Women or with Bobby, who had become quite smitten with her.

Will, meanwhile, spent his mornings either training, or in meetings with Xavier, Ororo and Logan (who was acting as an intermediary for Nick Fury), discussing the logistical details of the 'Green Team'. They agreed that the team would act only once SHIELD had obtained clearance form the local government. A conference call with Val Cooper secured the help of Avalanche and Pyro. Dominic Petros seemed genuinely interested in the ecological aspects of the work, while St. John Allerdyce seemed more interested in the positive spin that it would give mutants in the media. Valerie Cooper agreed to look into the possibility of modifying the conditions of both men's release so that they could work freely with the new team.

Will spent at least two hours per day focused on his business interests, trying to start an investment fund as a seed for the compensation trust he had proposed to Xavier. Afterwards, he spent some time relaxing, either in his workshop or with Rogue, before his evening training session with Topaz.

Topaz and Will tried to vary the training sessions, just to keep things interesting. Some of the sessions were spent exploring the nature and limits of Will's abilities. Topaz studied the changes in Will's aura as he teleported and used Doors to travel around the various parts of his workshop. More disturbing, in Rogue's opinion, was Will's self-infliction of some minor cuts so that Topaz could observe his healing process. "I understand why you have to do it," she told them, "but I don't have to like it."

Topaz nodded in sympathy. "I'm hoping that this information will _help_ him. I should be able to use my abilities to boost his."

"Will that affect you at all?" Will asked.

"I might need to take a nap, but that's it."

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it," he decided. "What's next?"

"That should be it for tonight. I have to ask a favor, though."

"What's that?"

"I need tomorrow off. It's my day to run things at the store."

Will considered it for a moment, then nodded. "No problem. What time do you have to be there?"

"About five-thirty. I'll need time to start brewing the coffee, and to get the pastries in the cases."

"Who does the baking?" Rogue asked.

"We do. 'Tana puts everything in the ovens just before she goes to bed."

"Knock on our door around five," Will told her. "I'll 'port you there, and save you the commute."

"Oh _thank_ you," Topaz practically gushed. "That drive was the only downside I could think of to being here."

"Think of it as a company perk."

* * *

The Devil's Daughter woke up at the crack of eleven. Craning her neck, she found that her partner of the previous night had gone home. Rolling out of bed with a few muttered curses (_real_ ones) she made her way towards the shower.

Twenty minutes later, she came down to the shop, where she found Topaz behind the counter, scrambling to fill customers' orders. "Want me to handle the register?" she asked with a yawn.

"Please," Topaz replied as she filled a small pitcher with half-and-half and set it to steam.

Satana planted herself in the chair sitting beside the register and started ringing up orders as quickly as Topaz took them.

The next hour or so raced by, as they poured several pots worth of coffee, and sold out of Satana's popular Chocolate Sin muffins. The crowd thinned as afternoon classes began, and Topaz collapsed into an overstuffed chair. "I need a nap," she announced.

"Too bad," Satana said with a smirk. "You're stuck here until closing."

Topaz stuck her tongue out at her. "Any paperwork to do?"

"Jennifer did it yesterday. You could always clean up the stacks."

Topaz looked over to the side of the shop that was devoted to the bookstore. Standing up with a sigh, she started reshelving mislaid books.

Satana was wiping down the counter when she caught a whiff of enchantment. She looked up just as the door to the shop opened, admitting a young couple. There was nothing unusual about the woman, but the man fairly _reeked_ of magic.

He walked up to the counter and removed his hat. "Ms. Hellstrom, I presume?"

Satana began an incantation to summon hellfire. "Who wants to know?"

"I go by Will Riley. I'm Topaz's new employer."

"So what do you want?"

He glanced above her for a moment. "A tall hot chocolate, with a shot of mint, please."

Satana blinked, and was silent for a moment. "You want whipped cream on that?"

"If you would, please."

As Rogue was putting in her order, Topaz poked her head out from behind the stacks. "I thought I heard a familiar voice. What brings you two here?"

"We decided to hit the museums for a day," Will explained. "I realized we were close by, so we thought we'd pay a visit."

"Where'd you go?"

"The Museum of Natural History and the Hayden," Rogue told her. "I just _love_ looking at the gem exhibit."

"And looking is _all_ you're gonna get to do," Will said firmly. "I'm rich, but J.P. Morgan I am not."

"You could always conjure one up," Satana advised him.

"I wouldn't have the faintest idea how. My magic leans more towards the natural world. Well, that and necromancy."

Topaz nearly spit out her chai latte. "You're a _necromancer_?" she sputtered.

"It's the closest analogy to what I do that I can think of. I don't actually summon the dead, but I do sense their influence, on a grand scale, on the present."

Satana thought about that. "Would that make you a… necropath?"

"Maybe. I don't know if there _is_ a word for it. I really haven't explored it too well."

"Why not?"

"I have a hard enough time staying sane as it is. If I have the dead shouting in my mind on top of that, I'll _really_ go 'round the bend."

They all turned their heads as the bell atop the door jingled. A tall blonde in jeans and a T-shirt walked in. "Hey, guys."

"Hey, Jennifer," Topaz said cheerfully. "How was class today?"

"Annoying. The books I need for my anthro paper are out until next week." She dropped her bag onto a table and flopped into a chair.

"You've got six weeks."

"Yeah, but I like to leave myself some wiggle room, just in case something comes up." She glanced over at Will and Rogue, giving them both appraising looks. "This your new boss?"

Topaz nodded. "Will, meet Jennifer Kale. Jennifer, Will Riley, and Rogue."

Jennifer shook their hands, then fell back into her chair. "So what brings you by us?"

"We were in the area," Will admitted, "and I was curious about the setup you have here. I have to admit, your external defenses are impressive."

"They have to be, given some of the stuff we have here."

He nodded. "Topaz told me about The Tome of Zherad-Na, and I think I'm safe in guessing that there are other things here you don't want wandering out of your sight." He held up a hand as Kale opened her mouth to protest. "I don't know what they are, and I don't _want_ to know. Your secrets are your own. I just came here to introduce myself to you two, since it's possible that the interaction between myself and Topaz could have an effect on the magical balance between you three."

Jennifer considered that. "That's a pretty good idea, actually. What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing too involved… just monitoring me while I lower my shields."

"That works. Couldja get the door, Topaz?"

Topaz locked the door and flipped the sign on it to read 'Closed'. "Follow us, Boss," she told Will.

"Mind if I watch?" Rogue asked.

"No problem," Jennifer said. "I'll conjure you up a recliner." They all started up the steps.

"Can we work skyclad again?" Satana requested.

Will whimpered.

* * *

"Comfy?" Jennifer asked Rogue a few minutes later.

"Very. I thought you were kidding about the recliner, actually."

"The popcorn and soda are a nice touch," Will commented from his place inside the circle on the floor.

"Thank you. Now, if you'll just hold still for a second…"

With a few gestures, Jennifer raised the wards around Will, forming a translucent barrier around him. "Okay, if you could start lowering your shields, we can get started."

He nodded, and his eyes began to shine. _"Let me know if it's too much."_

"We can reinforce the circle if we have to," Topaz assured him.

As she had at Strange's Sanctum, Rogue saw Will's aura become visible, expanding until it reached the border of the circle. This time, however, the aura did not go _beyond_ the circle. "You've bound him?" she asked.

"Just lightly," Jennifer said. "Enough to get a feel of how much power he puts out."

"He should be able to break out fairly easily if he wants to," Satana added. She smiled wickedly at Will. "That is, _if_ he's as good as Topaz says he is."

Will gave Satana a grin which was just as evil. _"Care to find out, Ms. Hellstrom?"_

Satana grinned even wider. "Ooh, a _challenge_! Bring it on, old man."

_"After you."_

"'Tana…" Topaz said in a warning tone as the woman stepped forward.

"Don't worry, NutraSweet," Satana replied, "I won't hurt him… much."

"'NutraSweet'?" Rogue asked.

"Sweetness and light," Topaz informed her with a smile. "It's an old joke of hers." Rogue noticed that the smile was rather forced. _At least now I know she can be pushed._

Satana parted the border of the circle and stepped inside. Before the barrier had finished closing, she threw a bolt of fire across the circle at Will, who opened a Door to divert it.

_"Not bad,"_ he told her. _"My turn now."_

Rogue gasped as Will's tattoos shot off his right arm, wrapping themselves around Satana. He gave the arm a yank, and she cane flying towards him, landing on the ground at his feet. Another yank sent her spinning into the air, and she grunted as she hit the edge of the circle.

"He's never done that before," Rogue told Topaz. "Not in the real world."

"Really? Interesting."

Satana shook her head to clear it, then stood up. "Not bad," she admitted. "You've got my vote."

Will nodded, then gestured for Satana to precede him out of the circle. She stepped towards it, then whirled back around, sending a palm-sized fireball flying towards him.

Before any of the women could react, Will caught the hellfire in his right hand. The skin of his palm began to blister and sizzle, but he made no sound as he clenched his fist, extinguishing the flame. He opened his hand again, and the singed flesh knitted itself back together. He stepped towards Satana, glaring down at her.

_"**Don't** do that again,"_ he growled.

Satana just nodded… somewhat meekly, in Rogue's opinion. She lowered the wards of the circle, and they stepped out.

"Satisfied, 'Tana?" Jennifer asked.

"Yeah. Did you get all the info you needed?"

"Plenty." She looked at Will. "You need to rest?"

"No, I'm fine." He scratched at his palm. "This itches a bit, though."

"Let me see it," Topaz said. She took hi hand in her own for a moment. "How's that?"

"Better, thanks." He wiggled his fingers, then cocked his head slightly. "Could you do that again, for just a second?"

"Why? It's healed."

"I 'heard' something peculiar when you called up the power," he told her, tapping the side of his head for emphasis. "I want to see if I can get a lock on it."

"Here," Satana offered. She took a small knife from a drawer and made a light cut across the back of her arm.

As Topaz healed the wound, Will 'listened' again. "Where do you draw the power from?" he asked her.

"It depends. If I have to do something major, I'll call on any local sources… ley lines, or maybe an artifact. Minor wounds, like this, I can do by drawing on my internal power. I've got enough for it not to be a problem."

He nodded, thinking for a moment, then glanced at Satana. "If I could impose on you just once more…"

"I'm going to get a reputation as a 'cutter'," Satana muttered to herself as she drew the knife across her arm again. As the blood began to well up, Will put his hand on the wound, then closed his eyes.

The women studied Will's face as he grimaced in what appeared to be a combination of exertion and pain. After a few seconds, he seemed to relax, the removed his hand from Satana's arm. The wound had vanished.

Topaz looked at him, blinking. "I'm _impressed_."

He nodded, smiling, then swayed on his feet for a moment. "I feel a bit dizzy…"

Rogue, who had been sitting quietly and taking mental notes, quickly stood up and led Will to her chair. "Any ideas?" she asked the others.

Jennifer nodded. "It's probably his blood sugar. I'll get him a brownie and some juice from the shop."

Will felt recovered after about fifteen minutes. "Any suggestions on how to keep that from happening again?"

"Your body should get used to it," Topaz assured him. "We'll work on it later."

He nodded and stood up. "I think I need a nap after all that. Give me a call when you're done here, and I'll 'port you back to the Mansion."

"No problem. I should be finished here just after ten."

After Will and Rogue had stepped into a Door and vanished, Jennifer and Satana looked at Topaz. "So how does he compare to Strange?" Jennifer asked.

"Will has one big advantage over Stephen. He can do something that no master, that you or I have ever had before, can."

"What's that?"

Topaz smiled beatifically. "Cook."

"… I hate you," Satana muttered.

"I know."

* * *

Rogue tucked Will into bed, with the promise that she'd wake him for dinner, then went down to the parlor, where the other X-Women were lounging in front of the TV. She flopped into the papasan chair in the corner. "What's on?"

"_Somewhere in Time_," Betsy told her.

"The guys ran off the moment we turned it on," Jean added with a grin. "I think they were afraid they'd get cooties." They all giggled at that.

Hankies were passed around as the film ended, and Jean vowed that she and Scott would spend their next anniversary on Mackinac Island. "What time is it?"

"Almost four," Ororo said, looking at her watch.

"I should pull Hank out of the lab and get started on dinner. Any requests?"

"Chicken and pasta?" Rogue suggested.

"Sounds good."

"How was Topaz?" Ororo asked.

"She's good. She should be back around ten. Her partners are real characters."

Do they seem trustworthy?"

Rogue nodded. "They've got plenty of their own secrets, so ours aren't going to be a problem."

Jean nodded and stood up. "Should I set some dinner aside for her?"

"That's probably a good idea. I think I'll get Will up."

* * *

Will proved to be somewhat harder to awaken than usual, but touching Smoke's nose to the back of his head did the trick. "The females in my life are conspiring against me," he grumbled as he sat up.

"It keep you on your toes," Rogue told him with a smirk. "You feeling better?"

"A bit. How soon until dinner?"

"An hour or so. Any ideas for tonight?"

"I'd like to stay in. We'll see after we eat."

* * *

Topaz stepped through the Door Will had created and entered his bedroom, where she found him giving Rogue a backrub. "Don't get up," she told them with a smile.

"I can't," Rogue replied drowsily. "He's sitting on me."

"How were things at the shop?" Will asked.

"Fairly quiet after you left." She bent down and removed her shoes. "Much better," she sighed.

"You can sleep in tomorrow if you want. Rogue and I have a training session in the morning, so you really won't be doing anything until after lunch. Did you have dinner?"

"Missed it."

"There's a bowl of chicken pasta for you on the bottom shelf of the fridge."

"Thanks. Is Bobby on duty tonight?"

"No, he's off," Rogue said. "Why?"

"Well, I've been hinting that I'm interested in him, but he doesn't seem to be getting the message."

"He's clueless like that," Rogue agreed. "You have a plan?"

Topaz nodded. "I'm going to corner him in his room, ravish him, then invite him to take a shower with me when we get up in the morning."

"That should work," Will said blandly. "Just try to keep the noise level down."

"I'm not making any promises," she told them as she left the room.

"It should be interesting seeing Bobby tomorrow," Will mused. "Assuming she leaves him in one piece."

"She wouldn't hurt him," Rogue protested.

"No, but she might wear him out. Sorcerers and enchanters… men and women… tend to go to extremes. They either deny themselves completely or become total sensualists. She's definitely one of the latter."

Rogue propped her head up on one elbow. "How can you tell?"

"How she dresses, for one. The clothes I've seen her in so far are either skintight or flowing, and she has a fondness for silks. The incense in her room appeals to her sense of smell, and so does that perfume that she likes. I haven't been able to place that one yet."

"Xanadu. I saw it when she moved in."

He nodded. "Her yoga exercises also put her in tune with her body's senses. They enhance her sense of touch, too. I'll expect her to be wearing furs come winter."

Rogue giggled. "If she's going after Bobby, she might need them _now_." She wriggled a bit and rolled over so that she faced Will. She did give me an idea for something, though."

"What's that?"

"Ravishing my boyfriend."

_"Oof!"_

* * *

Bobby had a rather dazed expression on his face the next morning. Topaz, in contrast, looked like the cat who had eaten the canary.

"Juice, Topaz?" Will asked with a barely concealed smirk.

"Yes, please."

"You certainly have an appetite this morning," Ororo said with a twinkle in her eye. She was aware of Topaz's activities the pervious night. Most of the Mansion, in fact, was aware of it. Topaz, it seemed, had not only been very _enthusiastic_, but also very _vocal_.

"I've been working out," Topaz shrugged in reply.

Bobby turned bright red and left the room in a hurry. The others respectfully gave him a moment's grace, then burst into laughter.

"You _will_ make it up to him later, won't you?" Betsy asked Topaz.

"With interest," she confirmed. She turned to Will. "Mind if I observe you during the session? I want to see how you guys work as a team."

Will glanced at Ororo, who nodded. "No problem. You can sit in the control room. Who's running things today?"

"I am," Henry told him.

"Bring a dictionary with you," Rogue advised Topaz.

* * *

"What's today's torture session, Hank?"

_"An obstacle course, Ororo. I decided to revive one of the older programs."_

The Danger Room walls shimmered for a moment, and several panels opened up to reveal metal tentacles, rows of dart guns, and a flamethrower.

"I hate it when he gets nostalgic," Bobby muttered.

Within a few seconds, Ororo and Rogue were dodging flying darts, while Will and Bobby avoided the tentacles and flames. "I have a suggestion, Boss!" Will yelled.

"I'm listening," Ororo replied as she jinxed out of the path of some darts.

"We switch targets. I'll take out the darts, you drown the fire."

"Do it." She flew over to the other side of the room as Will teleported to her previous location.

Hugging the wall underneath the dart launchers, Will started randomly teleporting out pieces of their internal machinery. It took him about twenty seconds to disable both launchers. Once that was done, Rogue assisted Bobby, helpfully tying the tentacles into a knot. Bobby then froze the nozzles of the flamethrowers, sealing them shut. Finally, Rogue bopped the cancel button. "Is that it, Hank, Or was this Level One?"

_"No, that's it. Unless you want to do some solo training."_

Will glanced up at the control room. "Topaz? Any ideas?"

_"I'd like to wait until we have everybody together, Will. Adding people changes the magical dynamics, and I'd prefer not having to start over from scratch."_

He nodded. "Makes sense. I'll see if Val can tell us when our new teammates will be available."

* * *

The next afternoon, Will escorted Avalanche and Pyro through a Door onto the Mansion's patio. Rogue, who was waiting for them, found that they were in the middle of a conversation.

"When's the retail date?" Pyro asked.

"In a month or so," Will told him. "I should be getting the advance copies in about a week."

"You doin' any signings?"

"No. I like to stay anonymous, actually. It lets me switch genres and styles easily if I feel the need."

"Being pigeonholed _is_ a pain in the ass. Heya, Rogue!"

"Hey, St. John," Rogue said as she stepped forward and gave him a careful hug. "How you doing?"

"No worries."

"How about you, Dom?" she asked, turning to Avalanche.

"I'm intrigued. Your boyfriend here has some interesting ideas."

"He always does. Meggan should be here in about an hour," she told Will.

"Will she be okay with the time zone change?"

"She said her body adjusts automatically."

"Neat trick. Could you ask Jean to point her to us when she gets here?"

"Sure." She relayed the thought to Jean as they made their way to Will's workshop.

Will opened the door to the workshop to find Topaz jumping out of Bobby's lap and straightening her skirt, and Bobby blushing hotly. Will just sighed and gave them an amused look. "You have your own rooms for a reason, you know."

"Sorry, Boss," Topaz replied, not sounding very sorry at all.

"Where's Ororo?" Rogue asked.

"She had to run to the bathroom. She'll be right back."

Will nodded. "Once Meggan gets here, we can get started."

Meggan had, in fact, been transported to the Mansion by Amanda Sefton while Ororo was in the bathroom, so the two women entered the workshop together. Once introductions were made, Will outlined his intentions for the team. "What I'd like to do today is let Topaz observe your powers in action. It'll give us an idea of how to balance everything out."

"Question," Domenic interrupted. "I know a bit about Meggan, and she's a lot more powerful than I am. What do you even need me for?"

"Well, again, it's a question of balance. There'll be times when your powers would be better suited for things than hers. And, sticking with the balance theme, there are times when you want a majority of the people in a group to be either male of female, to act as a balance against whatever your target happens to be."

"And I'm very sensitive to magic," Meggan added. "Too much, sometimes. In some situations, I might have to keep my distance."

Domenic nodded, then looked to Topaz. "What's your role?"

"I'll be wearing a few hats. I'll heal anybody who's injured, monitor the magical balance between everybody, and serve as Will's familiar if I have to."

St. John blinked. "You'll turn into a cat?"

Topaz burst into laughter. "No! I can use my powers to magnify the skills of another sorcerer. Think of me as a magical turbocharger." She looked at Will. "We might want to give that a try now, so we can see how you react to my influence."

"And you to mine," Will agreed.

Topaz stepped into the middle of the workshop and set up her cone-shaped barrier. She parted the barrier for a moment, and she and Will switched places, after a bit of wriggling to get past each other).

Once the barrier of the circle closed again, Topaz asked Will to draw a small amount of power from the local environment. He nodded, putting his arms at his sides and making his hands parallel to the ground. Small tracers of energy streamed between his hands and the earth. Rogue, who was watching silently, was suddenly reminded of his cabin in the Rockies.

"That should be enough," Topaz said. Will nodded and broke the connection. Topaz frowned and looked around the room for a moment. Her gaze settled on a hammer, lying atop Will's anvil. "Bobby, could you hand me that hammer, please?"

Bobby nodded and obeyed, placing the hammer against the outside edge of the circle at Topaz's instruction. St. John looked at Domenic and mouthed the word "whipped," causing several hands to be clamped over mouths to avoid outright laughter.

Topaz parted the barrier at its base, allowing the hammer to fall in. A quick series of gestures from her caused a pinkish aura to form around it. Another gesture raised it about a meter off the floor.

"Topaz?" Rogue interjected. "If you want him to move that, I'd _really_ suggest strengthening the barrier. Stephen tried this with an energy sphere, and Will turned it into a ping pong ball."

Topaz nodded, and with a few quick gestures, she increased the circle's thickness and density. She then intensified her hold on the hammer, locking it firmly in place. "Okay," she said to Will, "try to move the aura… _not_ the hammer itself."

Will nodded and raised one hand, closing it into a fist. He pulled down, trying to lower the hammer to the floor. After a few seconds, his face took on a grimace of concentration, and her started to break into a sweat. The hammer _did_ move, however, if only by a centimeter of two.

"That's enough," Topaz said after a few seconds, and Will exhaled loudly in relief as he relaxed his focus. "Okay, now we'll see how you do with my help. Just give me a second to get in sync with your aura…"

"Hold it," Will said sharply. "Will this involve any sort of psychic link? My shields are fairly strong."

"No, there aren't any psi powers involved. Now, just hold still a second…"

A moment later, Will straightened up with a snap, taking in a deep breath. The glow of his eyes increased dramatically.

_"This is… phenomenal. Does it drain you at all?"_

"If anything, it charges me up."

"Stop if it gets to be too much." Will turned his attention to the hammer. Taking hold of the shield surrounding it with his mind, he gave it a solid whack.

Meggan fished it out of the lake the next day.

* * *

By the time dinner was on the table, Topaz had memorized the auras of all of the 'Green Team' members, and the conversation during the meal centered on ways to combine the effects of elemental powers.

"What would be the purpose?" Henry asked.

"Focus and control," Will replied. "For example, Ororo could create a wind funnel around a fire, and St. John sets up a controlled blaze, reducing the oxygen available for the rest of the fire. Or Bobby could manipulate the flow of a flooding river long enough for Domenic to set up a temporary dam."

"Or Topaz and I could calm down panicked animals," Meggan suggested, "so that they don't stampede and run into a dangerous area."

"That's all _reactive_ work, though," Domenic pointed out. "What can we do that's _proactive_?"

"We've already suggested restoring brownfields," Rogue supplied. "And you wouldn't necessarily have to use your powers. You could just start planting trees."

"You could also look into the removal of invasive species," Henry suggested. "Some of them are doing far more damage than the hand of man."

"Most of them were _introduced_ by the hand of man," Will pointed out. "But it _is_ something worth looking into." He thought for a moment, then looked at Xavier. "How should we fit this team into the command structure?"

"We were going to consider you an independent group. Why?"

"I was thinking about a base of operations."

"The lodge?" Rogue suggested.

"… No, that's a bit too remote. There are going to be times that we'll _want_ media attention to make a point."

"Well," Bobby mused, "we wouldn't be spending all of our time there, would we?"

"Probably not," Will agreed. "It'd just be our public face."

"And you could just 'port us there if you had to. So why not base us someplace that's known to be progressive on the environment? Vail, for example, or Hawaii?"

"Hawaii's fairly mutant-friendly," Xavier pointed out. "I've had some success dealing with the legislature there."

"The price of land is insane, though," Will thought out loud. "Let me do some research, and we'll see what I can come up with."

"We should try to make the base as environmentally friendly as possible," Topaz suggested. "Local, recycled materials, small footprint, solar power, and so on."

Will nodded and started jotting notes down. "How about a geodesic dome? They're easy to set up… I can order a kit… energy efficient, roomy, and nearly impossible to knock down."

"You could just order the connection struts," St. John suggested, "then use local and recycled materials for the rest. It'd let people know that we practice what we preach."

"Good idea. Logan, could you arrange a meeting with Nick Fury? I want his advice on how to handle our public introduction."

Logan nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"You're not considering a permanent move, are you?" Scott asked.

Will shook his head I'll set up a gate like the one that leads to the Lodge. We'll anchor it at my workshop."

"You'll use keys again?"

"I know the spell," Topaz said. "I can add magical protection for the base, too."

"If we're looking at good public relations, we may _want_ the public to show up," Meggan pointed out. "What about dividing the base into a private area, for our rooms and gear, and a public area that we can use as a visitors' center? We could give press statements and interviews there, and talks on mutant relations and ecology when things are slow."

"That's an excellent idea, Meggan," Xavier said in compliment. "Given Hawaii's tourist appeal, it could have quite an impact."

"That would mean the place would have to be constantly occupied, though," Bobby pointed out. "Would we just take turns there?"

"Hey," Betsy piped up, "_I'll_ volunteer to spend the day in Hawaii whenever you guys need help."

Will chuckled. "Logan, let's look and see when Fury's available."

* * *

As Logan promised, Nick Fury was able to steamroll past several government naysayers, and the team, tentatively named Ecologix, was given a charter similar to that of the Avengers, though far more limited in scope. It would act only after permission was given by the local government, and would focus on repairing the local ecosystem, with a secondary goal of assisting with humanitarian relief.

Will tapped into his untraceable funds to purchase, through a dummy corporation that Bobby set up, a small island just off Kauai. With the assistance of Forge's technology, a bridge was constructed that led to the main island. This bridge could be lowered beneath the water when not in use.

The team's introduction to the island was kept low-key, since it was decided to hold a more public event once the base was complete. Will hired locals for transportation, and made special arrangements with a local lumber company to find reclaimed wood for use in the construction. The foundation was assembled with a combination of Styrocrete (which had Styrofoam pellets mixed in with the concrete, making it lighter) and flycrete (which used flyash, an residue from industrial processes which would otherwise be sent to a landfill). The foundation blocks were designed to interlock, making assembly a simple matter. Domenic used his powers to clear the soil to the required depth, and the blocks, once surrounded with fill, were as solid as a poured foundation would have been.

The design of the headquarters itself ended up being a pair of domes: one for the residence, and one for the visitors' center. At Will's suggestion, an S-shaped corridor connected the two, and the curve continued onto the grounds, where Domenic sloped the ground to create a gentle path. The yard was bordered with a low ornamental hedge that circled the grounds. From above, the complex as a whole resembled a yin-yang symbol. The hedge also served to conceal several crystals that Topaz set into the ground. These crystals passively scanned for magical activity, and could be used to raise a barrier against attack, if required.

The actual construction of the domes took very little time, as Will had predicted. A combination of Rogue's flight, Topaz's telekinesis, and ice supports created by Bobby made scaffolding unnecessary, and an hour or so of running about by Will, Ororo, St. John, and Domenic got all of the bolts tightened. Will had purchased and set up a small trailer whose roof was covered in solar panels. Those panels charged a series of sealed lead-acid batteries inside the trailer. This portable power source was used to power all of the tools used in construction, until the windmill and permanent solar array could be installed.

At Forge's suggestion, Henry contacted several renewable energy companies on behalf of the team, offering the headquarters as a place to both test and showcase their latest technologies. As a result, the residential area was given an evacuated tube solar water heater, and an experimental Stirling engine was mounted atop a small platform. A simple computer program tracked the sun, then adjusted a series of mirrors so that several beams of focused sunlight converged on the engine, driving it with the resulting heat.

The electronics within the buildings were designed to run on as little energy as possible, with a series of LED lights providing most of the illumination. Henry did some calculations, and found that the residence used one-eigth of the power of a comparably-sized 'normal' house.

The residential quarters were oriented so that they faced the beach. Will and Rogue shared the largest bedroom, on the upper floor, and Ororo took the smaller one, claiming that she preferred a view of the open sky. Bobby, Topaz, Domenic, and St. John each took a room on the lower floor. Will designed Murphy beds, which could fold up into a cabinet when not in use, for the three remaining bedrooms, one of which was designated for Meggan on her duty days, and the other two for guests. He used local woods, such as bluegum and kamani, for the furniture, bamboo for the floors, wheatboard for the cabinets, and ironwood for highlights throughout the house.

Henry and Kitty combined their talents to design the visitors' area. A holography room, similar in design to a planetarium, formed the center of the building. Designed for presentations, it could be updated to address global environmental threats as they occurred. It would also be used for press briefings. The perimeter of the dome was used for a series of exhibits, each dealing with a specific environmental problem, and ecologically friendly alternatives to help address the problem. A hydroponic greenhouse was set up, both to provide food and indulge Ororo's green thumb, and an electric tram, designed by Forge, would transport visitors across the bridge.

The building was completed after over a month of twelve-hour days, and the new team celebrated with a combination luau and barbecue. Large hammocks, hung between the palm trees on the beach, allowed the couples to cuddle.

Domenic looked at St. John ruefully. "We have _got_ to get us some girlfriends."

Rogue giggled. "You could always wear that outfit from the night I went with you on that arms deal."

Domenic looked puzzled for a moment, then groaned. "I can't believe you remember that…"

"How bad?" Will asked Rogue.

"Two words: Leisure suit."

Bobby winced. "Ow."

"I wouldn't point any fingers, Robert," Ororo teased. "I could describe some of your old outfits easily enough."

"Give Topaz more time to settle in before scaring her," Will advised.

Topaz smiled. "I'm hard to scare." She polished off her wine cooler and stood up. "Come on," she told Bobby. "I feel like going swimming."

Bobby stood up and followed her, eyeing her outfit of bikini top and sarong skirt. You sure you're in the right outfit for it?" he asked as they left the illumination of the fire.

"Who said anything about an outfit?"

Domenic chuckled. "Now I know why you insisted on privacy screening for the patios," he told Will.

"And the one-way glass in the residential wing," Rogue added.

"Well, we needed the screening for the outdoor shower anyway, and I'd rather not find us bring stalked by somebody from the Bugle. If it makes some of us more comfortable about showing skin, I'll consider that a bonus."

Ororo nodded in approval. "I think I'll turn in. What time is that reporter due?"

"About eleven. I told Meggan to be ready by nine, our time. That'll give us time to do some last-minute cleaning, and double-check the fit of our uniforms."

"He's from the local paper, right?" Domenic asked. "Nothing that'll hit the national press immediately?"

"They promised to keep it quiet for as long as possible. Hopefully, it'll buy us a few days without hassles."

"What if you're recognized from a picture?" St. John asked.

"Won't happen. Topaz and her friends helped me make some changes to my uniform. My face will always look a little blurry in a photo or video."

St. John nodded. "What was in the box you gave to Meggan?"

"Meggan loses fine control of her powers if she away from the British Isles for too long. We designed a pendant that'll store some of the mystical energy she needs. If she only uses it when she's with us, it'll let her go for a week or so without loss of control."

"That should be useful," Ororo said as she shook out and folded up her blanket. "Betsy's mentioned some of the difficulties that Meggan once had with her powers. I wouldn't want her to relapse."

"The tide's coming in," Domenic noted. "We should go in before the fire gets covered."

"We'll get it," Rogue offered.

As Ororo, St. John, and Domenic headed back to the residence, Rogue snuggled deeper into Will's arms, trusting that the gauzy blouse she wore over her bikini top would protect him. "This is nice."

"Very," he agreed. He looked up at the sky, undimmed by light pollution. "Remind me to invest in a good telescope."

"Just steal Hank's. He'll never notice." She looked up at him. "Were you talking about me, when you mentioned showing skin?"

"Partly," he admitted. "I want you to be comfortable when you're here. That includes being comfortable with your own body."

She smiled lazily. "That's nice. Maybe I can work on an all-over tan."

"You told me you don't tan."

"Maybe not, but it'll be fun to try."

A few minutes later, a wave finally reached the fire, drowning it in one swoop. At the same time, it deposited a bikini top, sarong, Hawaiian shirt, and a pair of cargo shorts onto the beach, about a meter or so away from the fire.

Will and Rogue gave each other identically mischievous looks, then grabbed the clothes and ran back to the residence, laughing at the squawks of protest that erupted behind them.


	69. Chapter 69

THE ARCHETYPE ASSOCIATION

by

Jim R. McBriarty

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

* * *

_HAWAII'S HOMETOWN HEROES_

_An interview with Ecologix_

_By _

_Linda Ka'oupa_

_The Kauai Observer_

Over the years, most Hawaiians have become used to the idea that we're considered something of a backwater by the continental U.S. We don't have anything on the scale of New York City or Los Angeles, and we've liked it that way.

In recent weeks, however, we have been able to lay claim to something that few states have: our own team of superheroes. The new group, calling itself Ecologix, intends to use its abilities and resources to repair damage to the environment, and to provide humanitarian relief to disaster areas.

I admit to being slightly nervous as I approached their headquarters, but, as promised, a solid-looking bridge rose out of the water to let me onto the grounds. The headquarters itself doesn't exactly scream 'superhero base'. If anything, the word that comes to mind is 'cozy'. The place has a low profile, and runs on suprisingly little power, all of which is provided by renewable energy… which I took as an encouraging sign that these heroes practice what they preach.

(At the request of the team members, only their code names will be used in this article.)

I was met at the door by two members of the team. Archetype is a curiously unassuming man. He gives the impression of being closer in temperament to Indiana Jones' father than Indy himself. Storm, however, is a regal, statuesque beauty. If she ever decides to give up the superhero business, she has a bright future as a runway model.

After a quick greeting, I was escorted to, of all places, the kitchen, where the rest of the team was discussing the lunch menu.

_Linda_: I was expecting all of you to be in costume.

_Iceman_: We're still on vacation. (_Laughter_)

_Archetype_: Actually, that was deliberate on our part. We wanted you to feel comfortable.

_Pyro_: Besides, we're still working on the fit.

_Linda_: You're inviting the public to visit your base. Doesn't this run against the usual tradition of secrecy among the superhuman community?

_Storm_: Not really. You see, the base is divided into two parts. One part, which consists of our apartments, training area, and equipment storage, _is_ private, with restricted access.

_Rogue_: You were let in to show that we have nothing to hide… other than the fact that some of us are slobs.

_Pyro_: Guilty.

_Iceman_: Ditto.

_Archetype_: The other, larger part will show our public face. It's meant to serve as a museum and education center… to give information about the environment, what some of the threats to it are, and, hopefully, ways to address the problems.

_Topaz_: We want to lead by example, but not be preachy about it.

_Linda_: How so?

_Avalanche_: We've begun by making this place energy-independent, to show that it's possible for the majority of people to do likewise, if they're conscious of energy use when they design their buildings. And most of the materials used to build it were recycled.

_Rogue_: We're hoping to invite guest lecturers eventually, and to give workshops on conservation and environmental awareness.

_Iceman_: We'd also like to become involved in the local community… stepping up when people could use a hand.

_Linda_: In what ways?

_Archetype_: We have a greenhouse set up, and may experiment with some sustainable agriculture on the grounds. Anything that we don't use ourselves will get donated to the local food bank.

_Meggan_: We'll also be doing volunteer work with local agencies, and groups like Habitat for Humanity.

_Linda_: What about the larger environmental groups? Will you be working with them?

_Storm_: Not directly. Our charter precludes our taking a political stance against specific governments, and many of the existing groups are overtly political.

_Linda_: But won't articulating positions on certain topics put you in conflict with certain governments?

_Archetype_: Of course. I think that our displays on whaling and overpopulation will be the most controversial. However, we haven't stated anything beyond the facts… and we quintuple-checked those facts for accuracy.

_Linda_: I meant to ask earlier: Which one of you is in charge?

_(Everyone points to Archetype) _He is.

_Archetype_: When did we decide that?

_Rogue_: While you were in the bathroom.

_Archetype_: Great. Betrayed by my own bladder.

_Linda_: I'll direct my question to you, then: What would your response be to those who would say that mutants have no business involving themselves in issues like this?

_Archetype_: Well, my initial response couldn't be printed in a family newspaper. But here's the official one: Mutants breathe the same air, drink the same water, and live off the same food chain as everybody else. Some, in fact, are more sensitive to environmental damage than an average person. As a group, mutant humans have just as much to gain from a healthy environment as everybody else. We're not doing this for the sake of mutants. We're not doing this for the sake of humanity. We're doing this for the sake of the planet, and, more importantly, because it's the right thing to do.

_Linda_: When does the visitor center open?

_Storm_: This Saturday at eight A.M.

* * *

That Saturday, Ororo woke up with the sun, gave herself her usual raincloud shower, and padded down to the kitchen.

As she reached into the cupboard for a teabag, she glanced out the window.

The glance became a stare.

She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and stared again.

Then she ran back to the bedrooms.

* * *

"_How_ many?" Will squeaked.

"I'd guess close to a thousand," Bobby said from his place at the security monitor. He was looking at a line that snaked from the entrance to the (currently lowered) bridge, to the parking lot, and beyond.

"We designed everything with a fifty-person capacity," Topaz said, burying her face in her hands. "What do we do?"

"The holochamber presentation is half an hour long," Rogue pointed out. "If we fill that up, then let another fifty into the display area, we can keep switching them out without stopping."

"We'll have to cut the line off _now_, though," St. John pointed out.

Will nodded. "Okay. Everybody suit up. Bobby, give Meggan a call, and tell her to get her butt here ASAP." He grabbed a stack of index cards from the desk and started writing down times in half-hour intervals. "Rogue, count off the first one hundred people, and hand the last one a card. The last group will be at…" He looked up at them. "Seven?"

"So we'll close at eight?" St. John asked. "That's a twelve-hour day!"

"We'll switch off. One person for the tram, one greeter… I'll start that… two guides for the displays, one guide for the film, and one for the greenhouse, garden, and lagoon. The seventh person gets the hour off to collapse and stuff their face. We'll probably be this bad tomorrow, so we'll continue with that pattern until things slow down."

"Can you drive the tram?" Rogue asked him.

"It's not like anyone else will be on the road."

* * *

The first group of patrons entered the atrium of the visitors' center, where Will greeted them, dressed in the uniform of Ecologix.

The color scheme for the uniform was forest green and maroon. He still wore his bolo tie, but his coat, also maroon, was omitted for the moment due to the heat. His vest was solid green. The uniform, as a whole, was made of a lighter weave than his usual design, again, as a compensation for the Hawaiian climate. Since he was indoors, he had designed an olive green version of his usual fedora, using a breathable fabric that allowed his perspiration to escape. He wore no (visible) weapons.

"Good morning. Welcome to Ecologix Headquarters. My code name is Archetype. I'm the field commander for the team.

"Some of you might have read an article about us in your local paper. For those of you who haven't, I'll give you a bit of background about us, and our intentions. We requested, and were given, a charter by SHIELD to pursue three goals. We intend to prevent, and do what we can to repair, environmental damage all over the globe. We will provide humanitarian relief to the populations of damaged areas, both independently, and in cooperation with international relief agencies. Thirdly, we hope to educate the public, both here and at the locations where we deploy, about environmental damage on both the local and global scale, and suggest ways to prevent further harm… and when possible, ways to repair the damage.

"Now, because we honestly weren't expecting this kind of turnout on our first day, the tour's going to be a little abbreviated, so that we can accommodate everyone. If you'd be kind enough to enter our holoroom, you'll see a brief presentation that Doctor Reed Richards was kind enough to make for us. After that, Rogue and Topaz will give you an overview of our exhibits, and then Storm will take you to our biosphere, garden, and lagoon, to show you some ways to incorporate environmentally friendly practices when you get home."

After the last visitor was in the holoroom, Will shut the entry door, then collapsed against it, sighing in relief. "One more of _those_ to go."

"You did great," Topaz assured him. "We'll have to write down that opening speech."

"I'll take the lead when they come out," Rogue suggested to Topaz. "You ride herd in back and make sure everybody keeps moving. We can't afford any traffic jams." Rogue's uniform was similar to her usual X-Men garb, but she had changed the coloring to match Will's. Topaz wore the purple-and-gold uniform that Rogue had helped her design. They each wore the symbol that had been agreed on for the team: The generic X-symbol, with the four spaces between the bars each filled with either a black, white, yellow, or blue field.

"Ororo's ready at the greenhouse?" Will asked.

"All set. She just finished checking the water levels."

He nodded. "Remind me later to look into using plants for sewage treatment. And on the subject of water…" He pulled his communicator out of his pocket. "Archetype to Pyro."

_"Yeah, Boss?"_

"On your next stop here, take a few minutes to fill up that drink cooler we have with water, and grab a stack of cups. Some of the people in line are going to start collapsing soon if they don't stay hydrated."

_"Right. I'll grab a trash can, too."_

"Good idea. Archetype out." He shut off the communicator and pocketed it. "I'll set up a cot or two in the infirmary, just in case. Be right back."

After Will had left the room, Rogue activated her own communicator. "Bobby? Any problems?"

_"Nope. Just did a full sweep of the perimeter. All I saw was birds."_

"Good. Do me a favor when you're done, and do a quick survey of the people in line. If anybody looks like they're about to drop, cool them off a bit."

_"No problem. Iceman out."_

By the time Will returned with the two cots and set them up in the small infirmary intended for the public, Meggan finished her first presentation, and guided her group out to the custody of Rogue and Topaz.

"All right," Rogue said, strengthening her drawl just slightly, "if you'll all follow me…"

* * *

"Yes, sir, it's correct that most electric cars have a limited range, but most people drive less than eighty kilometers, round trip, per day. And if you use a plug-in hybrid engine, instead of a straight electric…"

* * *

"Any standard diesel engine will run on vegetable oil or biodiesel, provided you replace the rubber in the engine with polypropelyne, since biodiesel will dissolve rubber. In fact, Rudolf Diesel, the inventor of the engine, never intended it to be used with petrofuels. He envisioned a world where fuel would be generated locally…"

* * *

"This hydroponic greenhouse, because it's multi-leveled, can grow as much as a full acre of ground crops, even though it's just over forty meters wide. A smaller version of this, placed in a backyard, could easily feed a family, and would provide fresh produce year-round, if kept airtight. The glass allows sunlight to enter, and the thermal mass of the concrete…"

* * *

"All of the plants in this garden were chosen for specific reasons. Some attract bees and hummingbirds. Others, as you can see, attract butterflies. This row here provides herbs used in cooking, while this row has ones used in tea. You'll notice that everything's been placed in raised beds. This makes it easier to turn the soil…"

* * *

"Yes, sir, plug-in conversion kits are available for some hybrid models…"

* * *

"Yes, sir. All of the plants here were raised from organic seeds, and most of them are heirloom varieties, since they tend to have richer textures and tastes…"

* * *

"Yes, Ma'am, we're composting our garbage on-site, and using it in the gardens."

* * *

"Well, sir, there's nothing _preventing_ you from running your diesel truck on straight olive oil. I'd think it would get expensive after a while, though…"

* * *

"… Yes, this _is_ my natural hair color.

"Yes. They're real, too."

* * *

At nine that evening, the full roster of Ecologix could be found collapsed on various pieces of furniture.

"Fighting the Adversary was less work," Domenic grumbled.

"I'm just glad that everyone was in a fairly good mood once they got inside," Meggan confessed. "That was the only thing that kept me from going mad."

"Did you have any problems with maintaining your shape?" Will asked.

"No, the amulet worked perfectly. It was keeping my mind shielded from all those emotions that was a drain."

"I could teach you some shielding techniques," Topaz offered.

"I'd appreciate that."

"I am _ravenous_," Ororo moaned. "What do we do for dinner?"

"Anyone against pizza?" Rogue suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Bobby replied.

Will stood up with a groan and grabbed the phone book from the kitchen. He chose the closest pizza shop on Kauai, putting in an order for six large pizzas. "No, we'll pick it up," he told them. "Delivery would be a problem, anyway."

"Okay," he said as he hung up, "now where do I have to teleport to?" He turned to a map of Kauai that he had hung on a wall.

"I'll get it," Meggan told him. "How long?"

"Twenty minutes."

Meggan smiled naughtily, looking at the other women for a moment. "Rogue, can I borrow something?"

No matter how many times the cashier at Papa Poi's Pizza Palace told the story about the flying blonde in the bikini, no one ever believed him…

"By the way," Topaz said as she munched on her third slice, "we might want to consider the idea of something that our visitors can take home. I lost count of the number of people who asked where the gift shop was."

"Same here," Rogue added.

Bobby looked a bit dubious. "Wouldn't that be a little too tacky?"

"Maybe not," St. John said. "On one of my drop-off runs, one bloke told me he was a Boy Scout leader. He was thinkin' of doin' a field trip for his troop. Something about a merit badge…"

"I'd forgotten about that," Bobby exclaimed.

"Forgot what?"

"A couple of years ago… just before Krakoa… the Professor talked with a BSA rep about a Mutant Studies badge. Guess they finally approved it."

"Never knew that," Will admitted. "Of course, they have a few environmental awards that we'd probably be helpful with, too. Did you get his name?"

"Nah," St. John shrugged. "He said he'd come back when things weren't quite as crazy around here."

"You _did_ point out to him that crazy is our default state, right?"

"Yep. He just laughed and said he could relate."

"To get back to the gift shop idea," Ororo said as she sipped at her iced tea, "It wouldn't have to be tacky. We could make the items ecologically oriented, like what you'd find in a traditional natural history museum."

"And we could look into working directly with local artists from different areas," Topaz suggested. "People who might not get a chance to show their things here because of cultural barriers. I have some contacts among the Dalits, back in Calcutta. I could run the idea by them."

"I know some blokes who have contacts with the Abos back home," St. John thought aloud.

"And my friend Chinua may be able to make arrangements in Kenya," Ororo considered. "We might even get work from Wakanda, if I ask T'Challa very nicely."

"We could even ask Dani Moonstar and Jimmy Proudstar if they can help," Rogue pointed out. "That would give us Cheyenne and Apache pieces." She took a pencil and pad from their place near the phone. "We should start writing these down."

"Okay, one rule," Will said. "The money from this stuff goes straight to the artists. We don't make a penny off it. I'll pay the sales taxes myself." He thought for a moment. "Did that Scoutmaster mention if he was interested in any activities for his kids?"

"No," St. John said, "but given the attention spans of kids that age, it'd be a good idea. Why?"

"I was thinking of something simple that they could build… maybe a toy that runs off a solar cell. We could walk them through the assembly, and teach them the basics of solar power at the same time."

"There are a few other possibilities," Ororo suggested. "I used to make paper as a hobby, and I used flower petals and other natural materials to do it. I'm fairly certain I could teach a class on how to do it."

"And you and I could teach a gardening class or two," Domenic pointed out to her.

"What's next?" Bobby joked. "A petting zoo?"

Topaz shrugged. "I have experience raising goats and chickens. They're not much of a bother."

Bobby blinked at her. "I was _kidding_."

"Well, why not? They'd be a good source for eggs and milk, and would show people that small-scale farming is doable. Besides, they'd be healthier than something off a factory farm."

"We'd need to dedicate some space for them," Will mused. "We'll look into it tomorrow afternoon." He turned to Meggan. "Did you want to head back to Muir? We'll call you again once things get busy."

"All right. You should all get to bed yourselves."

"I'm planning on it, believe me. Are you getting up with the sun again, Ororo?"

"I think so. Do you want me to get everyone up?"

"By seven, if you could. It'll give us all time to wash up and eat."

"We might want to call the Mansion and give them an update," Rogue pointed out.

"Good point." Will looked over to an unoccupied area of the room and opened a Door. "I'll pick you up at around eight-fifteen, our time," he told Meggan.

"See you then," she agreed as she entered the Door. "Night, everybody!"

"Well," Will said with a grunt as he rose from his chair, "Might as well take care of the dishes before we turn in."

"I'll get it," Domenic offered. "I owe someone a few dozen dish duty nights back from our Brotherhood days." He looked at Rogue with an amused glint in his eye.

"That's true," Rogue agreed as she got up to join Will. "And I think that my insider information regarding the camera you had in Momma's bathroom gives me even more leverage."

Domenic and St. John both paled. "You knew about that?" St. John asked.

"I even have a date-stamped copy of the footage," she told them as she and Will left the room. "It's in a safe deposit box, of course…"

Bobby looked at her in wonder. "The pupil has surpassed the master."

* * *

_Author's Note_: As I get older, and my face changes, I start to think about what Will looks like as he gets older and 'weaker'. My choice for a more weathered Will Riley is Sam Neill, who is best known for his work in the _Jurassic Park_ movies.

_My thanks to Minisinoo, whose brilliant **Heyoka** series (set in the X-Men Movieverse) provided the X-symbol used by Ecologix._


	70. Chapter 70

Things started to slow down at the new headquarters after about two weeks, and the X-Men and Ecologix decided to rotate the occupants on a schedule. St. John and Domenic maintained permanent residence there, and teams of two… Will and Rogue, Bobby and Topaz, and Ororo and Meggan… would come to the base for three-day intervals. Fortunately for everyone's circadian rhythms, Topaz knew a spell that could shift their body clocks to the local time.

Because the days in Hawaii were fairly light-duty, Will, Rogue, Bobby and Ororo intensified their training on the days they were at the Mansion. Rogue combined her usual weights and aerobics with the yoga that Topaz taught her, and was quickly in the best shape of her life. Logan even complimented her on it as she toweled off one day. "You haven't had this much definition in a while."

"Topaz showed me some breathing exercises for my abs. I was sore as hell at first, but they're working great."

Logan nodded. "Maybe she can teach the kids at the Academy. Where is she, by the way?"

"Working in her café. She'll be back in time for dinner."

"And Will?"

"Talking with Bobby. He's figuring out how to hide that trust fund he's building, so it can't get traced back to him."

"Makes sense. You two have dinner duty, by the way."

"I'd better look in the cupboards, then. I'll wash up, then grab Will."

Will needed no encouragement to abandon his paperwork, and they quickly prepared a large meal of beef tips in gravy, fresh rolls, mashed potatoes, and a vegetable medley. After dinner, they relaxed in their room, with her head in his lap as they read. Smoke took up a comfortable position on Rogue's stomach, and they spent a pleasant hour or so just relishing the quiet.

They heard a knock on their door, and a moment later, Betsy poked her head in. "I see that she's turned herself into lap fungus," she said, looking at Smoke.

"We've decided she's a shapeshifter," Rogue told her. "She runs on solar power and catnip."

Betsy grinned. "I was wondering if I could come with you to Hawaii the next time Meggan's there. I'd like to catch up on things with her."

"No problem," Will said with a shrug. "You might get drafted into a project, though."

"I can live with that. Thanks." She looked at Smoke intently for a moment. The cat jumped off the bed and padded quickly towards the door.

"What did you do?" Rogue asked.

"Sent her the image of a handful of treats," Betsy said with a grin as she left, shutting the door behind her.

Rogue chuckled. "And after Betsy's done, Jean's probably going to tease her for a while." Jean had recently entertained herself for a good half-hour by using her telekinesis to Move Smoke's catnip mouse across the floor. Smoke nearly drove herself crazy chasing it.

She rolled over so that she could look directly at Will. "Actually, I asked Betsy to take care of her tonight."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Mmm-hmm. I'll be right back." She stepped into the bathroom and shut the door. She came out a few minutes later, dresses only in her transparent body stocking and mask. "I thought we both deserved a night to ourselves."

"No stay there," she asked him when he started to rise from the bed. "I'm in the mood to pamper you tonight. You've been working hard… we _both_ have… for the past two months or so, and you deserve to be taken care of for a night." She dimmed the lights, locked the door, and stepped over to the bed.

Bending down, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply as she unbuttoned his shirt. Reaching behind his shoulders, she gripped the back of his shirt, pulling it forward and over his head. She kissed her way up his stomach and chest, then nibbled at the pulse point of his throat before moving up to his earlobe. He hissed in pleasure at that, and she whispered into his ear.

"No holding back."

She slid onto the bed so that she lay beside him, running one hand downward from his chest to his navel. She loosened his belt, then slipped her hand under the waistband of his pants.

"Careful," he gasped. "I might make a mess."

"That's sort of the point," she said as she unzipped his fly with her free hand.

She deliberately took her time, prolonging things for him as much as possible. She even added to the torture by kissing his chest and running the nails of her free hand along his side. He arched his back at that, and she quickly took the opportunity to yank his pants down. A few seconds later, she had pulled off his boxers and socks.

She lay directly atop him, intertwining her fingers with his and stretching out her legs so that she could hook her ankles behind his. Kissing him hungrily, she began to rub her body against him. Grinding her hips caused him to moan softly.

She could feel his breathing and heart rate quicken as he strained against her. Judging that he was close, she moved her right hand down his body again, and gripped him softly. She locked eyes with him. "Do it," she urged him in a whisper, "I want to feel it…"

His eyes rolled back in his head as he shuddered. She felt him pulse in her hand, and the heat of his release, and she wrapped herself against him as he came down from his high.

"You needed that," she said she his breathing slowed. It was more a statement than a question.

He was silent for a few seconds. "I guess I did. How'd you know?"

"I was thinking back to that time in your cabin, and I realized that I couldn't think of any times since then that you had any… release. You were always concentrating on me."

"I thought you needed it more than I did."

"We're a two-way street, mister. We both give, and we both get. If you've got needs, speak up. Better yet, I'll ask."

"Well, right now I think we both need something."

"What's that?"

"A shower," he said with a wry smile.

Rogue awoke the next morning feeling wonderful from head to toe. Will had been extremely attentive both during and after their shower, and she had fallen asleep from the massage he had administered (_after_ causing her to gasp out his name). She raised her head from the pillow and looked around. She was alone in the room, and the bathroom was empty. She got out of bed, stretched, and got dressed.

After a few minutes of searching, she found him in the Danger Room, where he was sparring with a holographic simulacrum of Kitty, under the watchful eyes of Logan and Scott.

Rogue blinked. "Why's he fighting Kitty?"

"He wanted to spar with someone new," Logan explained. "After me, Kit's our best at hand-to-hand."

She nodded. "Makes sense. How long's he been at it?"

"About twenty minutes," Scott told her, after glancing at the clock. "So far, he's only been clocked once. He's tagged 'Kitty' three times. It's been a dance, otherwise."

"No powers?"

"He said no. He wanted to test his skills, not his magic."

She nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting down to observe the fight more closely. The Kitty simulacrum was programmed to mimic the real Kitty's style, a mixture of Logan's training and the _ninjitsu_ skills imprinted on her mind by the _ninja_ sorcerer Ogun. The combination of techniques was proving to be a challenging counterpoint to Will's eclectic combat style.

After another five minutes or so, Will started to tire, and 'Kitty' took advantage of it, driving the air out of his lungs with a punch to the gut. As he pitched forward, wheezing, he was driven to the floor by a roundhouse kick to the head.

Rogue winced. "Ow."

Will shook his head to clear it, stood up, cracked his neck, and took a defensive stance. As 'Kitty' moved forward to press an attack, Will became a blur of motion, driving his fists into her face. When she lurched back, dazed, Will kept up with her. A quick boxing of her ears scrambled her balance, a leg sweep sent her sprawling to the floor, and a sharp blow to the nerve cluster on her chin knocked her out.

"That was anticlimactic," Scott drawled.

"You'd rather have him tear her head off?" Logan asked.

"Good point." He hit the intercom button. "That's it, Will. Hit the showers."

Will nodded. _"We still on for the team session this afternoon?"_

"Yeah. I haven't decided what it'll be yet."

"_No problem. I'll be in the weight room if anybody needs me."_

After an hour of weight training, Will felt like his limbs were made of pudding. He showered, then went up to the sitting room and collapsed, facedown, onto a couch, to the amusement of Betsy. "Tired?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

Will's reply was unintelligible, since he didn't bother to raise his head up from the cushions. Betsy sat next to him and lifted his head up. "Come again?"

"Never mind. It wasn't a polite answer, anyway."

"Fair enough." She let his head flop back down onto the couch. "I was going to use those pineapples you brought for dessert tonight. Any suggestions on what to do with them?"

He rolled over so that he faced her. "You could just peel it, then put some slices on the grill for a few minutes. The heat should soften the core enough to make the entire thing edible."

"That should work. Maybe I'll just cook everything out on the grill."

"Glad to help. Now let me hibernate in peace."

"Too late. The females in your life are approaching."

As Betsy finished speaking, Will felt a bit of movement on the couch. A heartbeat later, he had a face full of fur.

"Hello, Smoke," he said tiredly. He raised his head to the sound of giggling. "You took pictures of that, didn't you?"

Rogue and Topaz, who had just walked in, gave him identically serene smiles. "Maybe," they chorused.

"Are you up for a trip?" Topaz asked him.

"To?"

"The Knight's Cup. It's a club in Manhattan that's a hangout for the sorcerer crowd."

"Are you meeting a contact?"

"This is more for you, actually. It's past time for you to be formally introduced to the magickal community."

"Shouldn't I have a debutante outfit?"

Topaz smirked. "A nice suit will do." She looked at Rogue. "You might want something leaning towards the goth look."

"No problem. I have an outfit that'll work. Do you want Bobby to come along?"

"…Probably not a good idea. Your invulnerability gives you a minimal defense against magic. Bobby doesn't even have that." She looked at Will and smiled slyly. "Besides, having a girl on each arm will boost his image."

"Lovely," Will remarked dryly. "I'll be a magical Mack Daddy."

At ten that evening, the three of them stepped up to the doorman at The Knight's Cup. "Hello, Janus," Topaz said in a friendly tone.

Janus, an imposing, bald figure who stood about two hundred fifteen centimeters tall, gave her a speculative look. "Topaz? Been a while since _you_ were here."

"I was a free agent for a bit. Not anymore, though. Meet my new master, Will Riley."

Will, who was dressed in a medley of greys, slid his sunglasses down his nose for a moment, and let his eyes glow a bit. He gave Janus a polite nod. "Good evening. My companions and I seek entrance. Will you allow us to pass?"

Janus straightened up a bit, and his demeanor became more formal. "I guard the way, and watch you as you enter and leave. You may pass." He stepped aside, making the doorway available. Will glanced at Rogue and Topaz, and they stepped through the doorway, entering a small alcove leading to a staircase heading up.

"That was weird," Rogue muttered as they ascended the staircase.

"Not once you realize that Janus was a Roman god," Will told her. "He was the guardian of gates."

"Oh."

The coat check room was interesting, Rogue thought. The clerk, who reminded her of a male version of Meggan, gave them a claim ticket, then simply tossed the coats into the air behind him, where they vanished.

"Was he a mutant?" she asked as they approached a set of double doors.

"Fey," Will answered. "They're related to the Sidhe."

"There's actually quite a few of them here in New York," Topaz told her. "They followed the Irish during the Potato Famine."

"What do they do?"

"Some work in magickal spots, like here. A few run pubs, and I know that at least one works as a groundskeeper in Central Park."

The doors opened inward as they approached. "Rogue," Topaz warned, "you might reach your tolerance level for weirdness tonight."

"I'm an X-Man," Rogue countered. "I'm used… to…"

Her voice trailed off as she looked up.

And up.

High above her was an open twilight sky. A multitude of small, elfin creatures flew about on butterfly wings, leaving trails of pixie dust in their wake.

Looking around her, she realized that the room they were in was impossibly large, given the size of the building from outside. Circular in shape, its border was defined by nine massive oak trees, whose branches intertwined and became one large, leafy barrier against the outside world.

The people in the room varied greatly in dress, appearing in everything from tuxedoes, to ornate robes, to long hair and a smile. Their appearance varied greatly as well. Some had the elfin appearance she had seen in the coat clerk, others had a craftier, more cunning look to them, and still others looked like they were about half a second away from molesting the next available warm body.

"Is this a hangout for locals?" Will asked Topaz.

"Mostly. It's also a place for newcomers to make contacts and learn how to blend in." She looked beyond him for a moment, and he turned around to see a hostess walking towards them. She was dressed in a backless, shy blue sheath dress… which served a useful purpose, since it left the translucent sprouting out of her back unencumbered.

"Good evening," she said in a musical voice. "Do you have a preference for a table?"

"It's my first visit," Will confessed. "What would you recommend?"

She thought for a moment, then beckoned for them to follow her. She placed them at a table under one of the trees, close to the dance floor. "You should have a good view from here," she told them.

"Thank you very much for your help," Will replied.

The hostess nodded with a smile. "Saraswati will bring your menus in a moment." She walked off.

Will turned to Rogue. "One rule to remember in here: _Always_ be polite. Rudeness has rather… permanent consequences."

She nodded. "I'll set my Southern charm to 'kill'."

Looking around, she had to cup her chin in her hand to keep her jaw from dropping open. A rather attractive Indian woman, dressed in a style similar to Topaz, walked up and handed them each a menu.

Each menu was held in a different hand, with a hand to spare.

"_Namaste_," she greeted them. "I am Saraswati. May I take your drink order?"

_Whiskey, straight up, leave the barrel_, Rogue thought to herself. "Guinness, please," she said aloud.

"Club soda, with lime," Topaz requested.

"And I will have a Coke, please," Will finished.

Saraswati took their orders, straightened her skirt, and fiddled with her hair, all at the same time. "I will be right back with those. Please, look over the menu." She walked off gracefully.

Rogue let her head thunk to the table. "You're going to have to pour me into bed," she warned Will.

"The shock wears off after a drink or two," Topaz assured her. "I was traumatized on my first visit here, too."

"Knowing that _does _help," Rogue admitted as she flipped open her menu and began to read:

_Appetizers_

_Shrimp Salad (Cooked or Live)_

_Nectar Sampler_

_Salad_

_Mixed Greens_

_Mixed Flower Petals_

_Belladonna and Mandrake Mix_

_Seaweed Medley_

_Seafood_

_Grilled Tuna_

_Grilled Swordfish_

_Broiled Trout_

_Broiled Kraken_

_(Extra Charge for Live)_

_Poultry_

_Chicken Cordon Bleu_

_Duck L'Orange_

_Broiled Roc (Served in Shell)_

_Half-Rack of Hippogriff_

_Meat (Served Raw to Well-Done on Request)_

_Beef_

_Pork Rib_

_Buffalo_

_Deer_

_Alligator_

_Velociraptor_

_(All served with potato and vegetable)_

She was quiet for a moment. "I am tempted to try some of these things, only because I know I will never get another chance."

"The hippogriff's a little gamy," Topaz said dismissively.

"What?" she said to their stares.

Later, as they munched on their entrees (swordfish for Topaz, duck for Rogue, and buffalo for Will), their waitress came by and sat down. "Enjoying your meals?" she asked.

"The food's wonderful, thank you," Rogue told her.

Saraswati acknowledged the compliment with a nod, then turned her attention to Topaz. "It's nice to see you again, _Pukharaja_."

"And I'm happy to be in your presence again," Topaz replied politely.

Saraswati smiled, then turned to Will. She seemed to study him for a moment before speaking. "Welcome, _aatma-calanevala_."

"I'm afraid I don't recognize the term, Ma'am."

"It's Hindi," Topaz informed him. "It means 'soul walker'."

"A good name for you," Rogue admitted.

"We've been expecting you to come here for some time," Saraswati informed Will.

"I wasn't even aware that this place existed until this afternoon," he explained.

"We ward it fairly heavily. It's a place for us to get away from the mundane world for a little while, so we try to keep it private."

"Understandable. Is it neutral ground?"

"Yes, but not a sanctuary. If you simply want to take a break from the usual magickal plots and intrigues, this is where you want to come. But if you're guilty of a crime under our laws, then you should find somewhere else to hide."

Will nodded. "You said take a break. You have safe lodging here?"

"Yes. Just ask the bartender for your room key."

"I wasn't aware that I _had_ a room."

"You will once you become a member," Topaz told him.

"What's involved in that?"

"You must pass a challenge," Saraswati said.

"Could this challenge get him hurt?" Rogue asked.

"Nothing that won't be healed after the challenge is over."

Will sat in thought for a moment, then glanced at Topaz, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. Standing up, he put his chair back in place, then faced Saraswati.

"Lady Saraswati," he said formally, "I request that I be submitted to the challenge for membership in The Knight's Cup Club."

The room fell silent, and the floor cleared of dancers in seconds. The sky overhead grew dark, and torches appeared in the archways of the room.

Saraswati, who had appeared to be about Topaz's height, was suddenly a giantess. Pinning Will's arms to his sides, she lifted him up in front of her and carried him over to what had been the dance floor.

"I will vouch for this one," she said in an authoritative voice. "Who here shall challenge this?"

A growl arose from a shadowed area of the room.

"I shall."

The creature that stepped into the light was close in size to Saraswati, but any similarities ended there. It was muscular, with glossy black fur. Most disturbingly, it had the head of a wolf.

"I am called Coltsfoot, upstart. My challenge to you is a simple one." It gestured to an amulet that hung around its neck. "You must take this from my possession." It stepped up to Will, seeming to overwhelm him with sheer bulk.

Will looked steadily at the growling creature for a long moment, then slid his hand underneath the back of his jacket. When he pulled it out, he held one of his daggers. He stared at it for a long moment.

He then flipped it end-over-end, offering it to Coltsfoot.

"Trade you," he proposed.

There was a moment of absolute silence.

"All right," Coltsfoot replied amiably. He took the amulet off and handed it to Will, taking the dagger in exchange. The two shook hands firmly, and Coltsfoot placed a rather furry hand on Will's shoulder. "He passes," he announced.

The room erupted into cheers and applause, but was quickly silenced by a very uncharacteristic shriek from Topaz:

"'Trade you?' _'Trade you?'_ I spent weeks studying defensive spells, ancient riddles, and obscure history books, and all I had to say was _'TRADE YOU?'_"

"It's a challenge," Coltsfoot said, "not necessarily combat." He looked critically at the knife. "Nice workmanship. You made it?"

Will nodded. "I thought that you might react badly to cold iron, though."

"I'm lupine, not fey."

"Good point."

Saraswati, who had returned to her normal size once the challenge was over, walked up to the bar and took an old-fashioned brass key from the bartender. "And here is your room key," she said as she handed it to Will.

"Thank you," he said politely, taking it. "Would you mind if I took a look at it now?"

"Not at all."

"May my girlfriend come along?"

"Certainly. In fact…"

She made a complicated series of gestures with all four hands. Two small key fobs, one in silver, the other in brass, materialized on the bar counter.

"These will allow you access to the Club from the front door at any time, day or night. Rogue, yours will only get you up to the outer door of this room. There's always someone present here, though, so you'll be let in without any problems.

"Archetype, your key lets you enter all the public rooms in the Club. There are some private rooms that you'll need permission for."

"May I ask a question?" Rogue said. "I have no magickal talent. Why am I being allowed in at all?"

"Two reasons. Firstly, it's obvious that you two are a package deal. Secondly, we owe you for your work against the Adversary, way back when. It's our way of saying thanks."

Rogue was touched. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

"Why don't you check your room out?" Topaz suggested. "I'll just hang out here."

Will nodded and offered his left arm to Rogue. She laced her fingers with his, and they headed towards the private rooms.

Topaz took a seat at the bar. "Glenfidditch, neat," she told the bartender in a glum voice.

"'Trade you…'"

Will and Rogue stepped through the doorway marked 'Private Rooms' and looked up.

And down. And left. And right.

The hallway they had entered looked like something out of an M.C. Escher drawing. Stairways took a sudden turn off to the side, continuing up a wall. Doors could be found on floors and ceilings.

Will blinked, then looked at Rogue. "You're not getting too weirded out by this, are you?"

"I think I've hit the 'accept or scream' stage. Any idea which way to go?"

"I'm getting a tug from the key." He pointed to their right. "This way." They started walking.

When they reached a point where the floor led to a staircase that ended at the wall, Will took a breath and walked up the stairs. He placed his feet on the wall, and straightened out so that he appeared, from Rogue's viewpoint, to be fully horizontal. "Looks like the gravity effect's a local one," he observed.

"Looks like," she agreed, stepping up to the wall/floor and following him.

A few minutes later, they reached the door, which had a brass plaque on it reading _Archetype_ in a Celtic-style script. Will turned his key in the lock and pushed it open.

The room they entered was similar in style to their room in the Mansion, consisting of a queen-size bed, a wardrobe, a rolltop desk and chair, and a night table with a Tiffany-style lamp atop it. A door in the back was closed. Rogue walked over to it and opened it, then whistled. "That is a _big_ bathtub."

"Well, you'll notice that they encourage you to be friendly."

"_Very_ friendly," she agreed.

Will opened the desk to find a stack of parchment paper, a small book titled _Resident Services_, and, interestingly, an old-fashioned rotary telephone, circa the 1930s or 1940s. He opened the book and leafed through it. "Meal Service… Laundry Service… Escort Service…"

"You're kidding." She looked at the page he indicated. "Okay, you're not kidding." She flipped ahead a few pages. "'Glamour Consultants'?"

"A glamour's a permanent illusion spell that lets somebody hide in plain sight. My guess is that the consultant helps refine it so that the person using the spell can blend in better."

She nodded, looking around the room once more. As her gaze fell on the bed, her eyes widened, and she walked over to it. She removed a glove and ran her hand over the sheets. "Ooh," she cooed, "silk…"

Will chuckled. "Would you two like to be alone?"

"Maybe another night," she said coyly. "Why don't we head back to the main club for now? I can't wait to see what their dessert menu looks like."

They found Topaz at the bar, seemingly working her way down the list of cocktails. "Oh, look," she said as they approached, "it's Mister 'Trade You'." Her voice was slightly slurred.

Will blinked, then looked at the bartender, who looked like he could join a barbershop quartet if he could manage to get his ears rounded. "How long were we gone?"

"About twenty minutes. She ordered a Mighty Thor just after you left."

"Mighty Thor?"

"Hits you like a hammer."

"Oh. Any chance you have a hangover cure available? I _really_ don't want her going home like this."

"Of course." He reached under the bar, pulling up a bottle of blue liquid. "This will be twenty, in advance, sir."

Will reached into his pocket and fished out the money. "Any side effects we need to know about?"

"Are you going straight home?"

"We were going to get dessert first."

"And maybe get some dancing in," Rogue added.

The bartender nodded. "Wait until you're ready to go, then. And once you have her home, lock her in her room… preferably, with someone she's taken a liking to."

Will grinned. "The side effects are somewhat stimulating, I'm guessing."

"Given what she's like _normally_," Rogue said, laughing, "we'd better be ready to treat Bobby for exhaustion."

For dessert, Rogue had a delicious sherbet made from a fruit found nowhere on the earthly plane, while Will had a chocolate mousse that was light as a cloud. After they finished eating, they stepped onto the dance floor. The bandleader got their attention. "Any requests?"

"How about a tango?" Rogue asked politely.

"An excellent choice, miss," the bandleader said with a bow. He turned back to the orchestra, and the first notes of the song drifted through the air.

Rogue let Will lead, and decided by the end of the dance that she deserved a cigarette. They were about to leave the dance floor when Will felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to face another male fey, and the hostess, who was apparently on break.

"Would you care to trade partners for the next dance?" the male asked politely.

Will glanced at Rogue, who shrugged amicably, then back to the pair. "By all means," he told them with a slight bow. He offered his hand to the sylphlike woman, Rogue took the extended hand of the fey, and they danced away from one another as the next piece, a waltz, began to play.

"Enjoying your first visit here?" Rogue's partner asked her.

"It's been a bit overwhelming," she admitted.

"That's understandable. Your adapting rather well, in my opinion."

"Thank you," she said, smiling. "May I ask how long you've been in the States?"

"I'm a little uncertain of the exact date, myself. I came here chasing after a lass, y'see." As he spoke, the brogue in his voice became more pronounced. "And once I found her again, we kept ourselves occupied and in our cups for quite a while. It took me the better part of a year to sober up. By then, it was the seventeen-forties."

Rogue blinked. "Wow. How do you keep busy for over two hundred fifty years?"

"Oh, most everybody here has learned that you have to reinvent yourself every twenty years or so. It keeps you from getting bored, and a new identity keeps people from noticing that you're not aging like they are."

She nodded. "Has technology made that harder?"

"Much. We had to stay out of sight for nearly twenty years once cameras were invented, and another five or so for television. It took that long to develop glamours that could fool them."

"So you use magic, not technology?"

"Most of the time. Some of us are better with technology than others, and they're the ones who help set up new identities. There's actually an entire society, integrated into the mortal world, designed to fill the needs of magickal creatures."

"What sorts of needs?"

"Houses and apartments situated on or near ley lines, for one. That allows us to keep permanent spells up to protect ourselves from detection. It also lets us drop our guard and relax when we get home. Some of us also have special nutritional needs."

"I know. I saw the menu."

"Well, our fish comes live every day from the Fulton Fish Market, and we distribute it by courier to the homes of those who prefer their fish live. Something similar is done for those who live off flowers."

Rogue nodded. "We've set up arrangements like that for mutants with special needs."

"The principle's the same," he agreed.

"So what do you do for a living nowadays?"

He responded by plucking something out of the air and handing it to her. "My card."

Rogue looked at it and laughed. "'Kelly the Clown'?"

"I met Walt Kelly once. He made an impression on me. Besides, it allows me to use magick, than say it was just sleight-of-hand. I enjoy being around children, anyway."

"Win/win."

"Exactly." His face sobered. "We have an ulterior motive for inviting you into the Club, you know."

"Oh?"

"A lot of things depend on your boyfriend. Many of those things will have an effect on my kind."

"Such as?"

"What sort of effect do you think Apocalypse would have on the natural world if his philosophies were dominant? Entire ecosystems would be wiped off the map… and so would the magickal beings that depend on those ecosystems. Magic could be eliminated from the planet… and that would have cosmic implications."

Rogue needed a moment to absorb that. "Does he realize that?"

"Nur? Even if he did… and I think it's doubtful… he likely wouldn't care. Keep in mind, he's five thousand years old… his thought processes were set in stone millennia ago. No matter how much technological superiority he has, it's still in the hands of someone whose moral framework was shaped by being a desert marauder." He looked towards the band as the music ended, then back at her. "I'd like to talk with you some more about this one evening, if you don't mind."

"Wouldn't mind at all. I'll call you when I have a free night."

The fey smiled and gave her a slight bow, then turned to where Will approached them, the sylph beside him. "Thank you for the dance," he told Rogue as he and his companion left the dance floor.

"You enjoy yourself?" Will asked her.

She nodded. "You?"

"Well, the dancing was fun," he said as they returned to their table, "but her wings were a problem. I had no idea where to put my hands…"

The hangover cure's effect on Topaz was immediate, sending her straight from drunken stupor to hyperactivity. Upon their return to the Mansion, she started flitting about the room so rapidly that Rogue got tired just watching her.

"Topaz?" Will said mildly, trying to ignore the fact that her eyes were slightly crazed. "Didn't you say that you wanted to talk to Bobby?"

"Hm? Oh, Bobby…" She grinned naughtily. "Yeah, I _really_ want to f-… um, _talk_ with Bobby."

Will gave her a gentle nudge to the back, leading her out the door and into the hallway, then down to Bobby's room.

Rogue, who had followed them, knocked on Bobby's door. "Bobby? You decent?"

"Yeah," was the muffled reply.

"Not for long," Will said under his breath. He opened the door, pushed Topaz into the room, and slammed it shut again.

"_Bobby!"_

Will and Rogue didn't even attempt to hide their laughter as they returned to their room… the sounds of clothes being torn off trailing behind them.


	71. Chapter 71

Breakfast was interrupted by Bishop headbanging the kitchen door.

Henry opened the door to let him in, and it was found that the reason Bishop used is head to do the knocking was that his hands were full. "Package for you, Will," he grunted.

I have it," Henry said, taking the large box out of Bishop's hands and placing it on the floor.

Will got out of his seat and examined the return address of the package. "It's from my publisher." Plucking a knife out of the air, he cut through the seal on the package. After digging past a few layers of plastic, he pulled out a hardcover book. "My complimentary copies."

"Let's see," Rogue asked him. She took the book when he passed it to her and looked at the spine, whicj had gold lettering against a navy blue background.

_A Most Excellent Murder_

_John Roland_

Betsy, who had grabbed a copy, leafed through a few pages, and made an 'aww' sound. "Did you see the dedication page?" she asked Rogue.

"Not yet…" She opened up her copy and found the page.

_To R., who's touched me more than she can know._

Rogue's eyes misted up, and she nearly melted into a puddle of bliss then and there. "Give him a smooch for me, will you, Betts?"

"No problem," said Betsy, giving Will a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thank you," Will said with a smile. Finding a manila envelope stuck between two of the books, he opened it and read the contents.

"'These should hit the bookstores in about a month. We've sent copies to the _Times_, The _Bugle_, The _Tribune_, the _L.A. Times_, and the Mystery Book Club. Enclosed are some proposals for the jacket art. If you have other ideas for a cover, fax or email us a sample within two weeks. Yours truly,' blah, blah, blah."

Sitting down next to Rogue, he opened up the envelope and examined its contents. He frowned as he leafed through the samples. "No. No. No. _Hell_, no." He dropped the pile onto the table.

Rogue spread them out onto the tabletop, and agreed with him. "These do _not_ fit the tone of the story."

"I agree," Xavier said.

"As do I," Henry added.

Will tapped a finger against his chin as he thought. "Let me get Muir Island on the phone."

* * *

Piotr leaned back in his chair. "Two weeks? It should be doable. What proportions are you looking for?"

"Four by seven. Same as a paperback cover."

"I'll have to make sure that everything can be visible when it's scaled down. What did you have in mind?"

Will thought for a moment, then plucked his fedora out of the air. He placed it on his head, shading his eyes.

"It's a hot night, hot as hell, in a part of town that makes hell seem like a step up. The rain's just ended, and the streetlights make the road look like a tar pit that'll keep you stuck here forever. Look up the road enough, and you can see the bridge that leads uptown, where the ward bosses and bankers are being served dinner by their maids, while mothers down here are searching through empty cupboards so that their babies won't go to bed hungry.

"I look to my left, and I see an alley. At the end of it there's a door, and the door has a bloody handprint on it that's bein' washed away by the rain. The light above the door is shining on a body.

"Nobody's on the street. No one wants to get sucked in… into the street, or into the case. So the body just lies there, waiting for dawn, and the illusion that someone will care." He took his hat off and looked up at the screen. "Does that help?"

Piotr nodded. "You gave me plenty to work from. Are there any specific details that you want?"

"Make sure that the cross-supports on the bridge form an 'X'" He grinned evilly. "May as well raise a question or two."

Piotr grinned at that. "Not a problem. I should have it ready in about a week." He thought for a moment. "Maybe I'll sign it 'Peter Nicholas', just to get some controversy going."

"There's no such thing as bad publicity," Will agreed. "We'll discuss a price once you're done."

"All right. I'll give it to Meggan, and she'll give it to you in Hawaii."

"Fair enough. Just call me in a week with an update."

"Agreed. Muir Island out."

* * *

Bobby and Topaz were just sitting down at the breakfast table when Will returned. Will looked at Bobby, then dug through the cupboards for a moment. Bobby took the vitamins and Gatorade gratefully.

Xavier, like most of those seated at the table, was leafing trough his copy of _A Most Excellent Murder_. He glanced up at Will. "Why did you decide to set it in Chicago?"

"I know the area, so it was easy to pick locations for the major scenes." He smirked. "Besides, I needed a city where the cops and D.A.'s were corrupt. Chicago fit the bill perfectly."

"Does Al Capone show up?" Logan asked.

"He's mentioned in passing once or twice, but he never appears. We're dealing with people much lower on the totem pole."

"Enforcers."

"Pretty much. I might want to use the characters in another story later, so I didn't make it too specific."

"You're considering a sequel?" Betsy asked.

"A series of stand-alone stories, actually. Something like the Mike Hammer series. I'll see what the response is to this one before I decide."

The next few minutes were spent discussing various aspects of the book, but that conversation was interrupted when Will's phone rang. He glanced at the called ID. "It's Hawaii." Bobby and Topaz woke up a bit at that.

Will activated the phone. "Riley." He listened for a moment. "All right. Call Meggan, and tell her to be suited up and ready in… say fifteen minutes. We'll pick her up, then join you. Out."

"Oil spill about twenty kilometers of the coast of New Zealand," he said, standing up. "It needs to be contained before it hits a coral reef.

"Suit up, Ecologix. Time to go to work."

* * *

Once he was in uniform and armed (just in case, he said), Will opened a Door to Muir Island for Meggan, then hustled her and the others through a second Door, taking them to the holoroom of the Hawaii base, where Domenic, St. John, and Ororo were waiting for them. "Who contacted us about the tanker?" Will asked them.

"The owner," Domenic said. "He's on hold."

"What's his name?"

"Andrew Willett."

"Okay. Somebody crank up the global display, and put him on speakerphone."

Meggan took the holoroom controls out of sleep mode, then switched the computer over to the Forge-designed, Pryde-programmed operating system, which displayed a transparent globe in the center of the room. At the same time, Ororo transferred the call and nodded at Will.

"This is Archetype, from Ecologix, Mister Willett. Can you please explain the situation to me?"

_"Of course, sir."_ The voice seemed rather harried, and had an Australian accent. _"One of our tankers, the _Breaker Morant_, was on its way back from Caracas when she developed some trouble with her engines. When the crew tried to fix the problem, something must have sparked. The engine room blew, and the explosion breached both hulls."_

"Casualties?"

_"Two dead, at least four injured."_

"Has the oil ignited?"

_"Not yet, but it could anytime."_

"What's their GPS frequency?"

Rogue entered the frequency as soon as Willett gave it to them, and the ship's location was displayed on the globe.

"Next question, Mister Willett: Where is your largest recovery ship located? Not your _nearest_ ship, your _biggest_."

Willett could be heard tapping on a keyboard. _"The _Ned Kelly_, on its way to the North Slope."_

"She's currently empty?"

_"Yes."_

"Set up a three-way call with the captain."

_"It'll take a minute."_

"Just put us on hold." He turned to the rest of the team. "Gather up the medical supplies and get them in here. St. John… no, better yet, Meggan… go to the equipment room and wheel over the standing tool chest with the red stripe down the side. That's the one that's all brass tools."

"Brass?" Topaz whispered to Bobby as Meggan took off.

"No sparks."

"Oh."

"Topaz," Will asked, turning to her, "can you create a levitation disk?"

"Of course."

"How much can it carry?"

"About three metric tons."

Will exhaled in frustration. "That'll be cutting it close."

"I'll carry Domenic and St. John," Rogue suggested. That'll take off about 200 kilos."

"That'll work," Topaz agreed.

_"Mister Archetype?"_ Willed voice asked over the speaker.

"Yes, Mister Willett?"

_"I have the captain of the _Ned Kelly_ on the line with me. Go ahead, Captain."_

_"This is Captain Alex Turnbull. How can I help you, sir?"_

"Can you and your crew be ready to begin recovery operations in fifteen to twenty minutes?"

_"Excuse me?!?"_

"Humor me, Captain. Can you get all of the prep work done in that amount of time?"

Turnbull was silent for a moment. _"Yeah. We'll need a few minutes to prime and warm up the pumps."_

"All right. Get started on that. What's your current speed?"

_"Thirty knots."_

"Heading?"

_"Twenty-eight degrees."_

"Is there a spot on deck where we can bring in equipment?"

_"The sternmost deck. You'll have about a hectare."_

"Perfect. We'll be there in twenty minutes. Expect you navigational equipment to go haywire for a few seconds."

Twenty minutes later, Topaz's levitation disk was groaning under the weight of cots, boxes of medical supplies, the toolbox, and four members of the team… Topaz. Bobby, Ororo, and Will.

"I'm going to let us drop straight down," Will told them. "Just land as close to our landing zone as you can. As soon as we're on deck, I'm heading for the bow. 'Roro, you coordinate with the ship's crew until we finish going through the Door."

"Right," Ororo confirmed.

"Okay. Drop on three. Two. _One_."

The holoroom vanished, replaced by a vast expanse of open sea. Th levitation disk began to fall, but Topaz got things settled after a moment.

"The ship's at two o'clock," Ororo said as she summoned the wind and flew off the disk.

"Going down," Topaz announced. They started a brisk descent… just fast enough to be slightly unnerving.

Topaz slowed the disk down as they neared the deck, and Will stepped off it just as they touched down. "Topaz, follow me. 'Roro, get us set up." He and Topaz headed towards the bow of the ship.

Captain Turnbull approached Ororo a few minutes later, as she was helping Rogue set up a pile of gauze dressings. "We're running at the speed you wanted," he told her. "Now what?"

"Our trip to the spill will take place in a few minutes. We will deal with the wounded, and you start recovery operations."

"Right. We'll need a few minutes to lower the hoses. After the pumps are running, we'll be able to give you a hand with WHAT THE F…"

"Language, Captain," Ororo said mildly.

Captain Turnbull's salty language was prompted by the fact that the seascape in front of the ship was being blacked out by an absolutely _huge_ Door. At the same time, a strained roar of effort could be heard from Will.

"Maintain your heading and speed, Captain," Ororo said calmly. "We've never actually found out what happens if you only go through one of those halfway, and I don't think you want to experiment with your ship.

That got Turnbull's attention. "Maintain heading and speed!" he barked into his radio. "I want us going right down the center of that…" He paused, looking at the two women uncertainly.

"Door," Rogue supplied.

"That Door," he finished. "I'll give new orders once we're through it." He looked back at Ororo. "I'm heading back to the bridge. If anything's going to happen to my ship, I want to be at the wheel."

"Understood. Here." She reached into a pocket and handed him a spare communicator pin. "Press the center to talk. We'll maintain an open channel, in case you run into a problem."

She leaned over towards Rogue as the man hurried off. "Remind me to get that back," she murmured.

"Right." Looking forward, towards the Door, Rogue noticed something coming through it, approaching them. After a moment, she realized that it was the open sea, under a clear blue sky, unlike the overcast one which was currently above them. "There's our target."

Just before the Ned Kelly reached the boundary of the Door, the approaching horizon came up to meet it, and the ship sailed through, onto a smooth, unbroken sea.

Bobby, who was sorting medical supplies, turned his head for a moment, then nodded. "Right." He walked over to the sternmost end of the ship, and looked straight up at the edge of the Door.

"Iceman," Ororo asked, "what are you…"

Bobby silenced her with a gesture, maintaining his gaze. When the edge of the Door was directly overhead, he counted slowly to five. "_Now_."

The Door started to close, starting at the top and descending quickly. Within the space of about eight seconds, it had vanished entirely.

Will and Topaz returned to the staging area about five minutes later. Will looked slightly winded, but was otherwise fine. "You okay?" Rogue asked him.

He nodded, breathing heavily. "Just need a second." He looked towards the bow. "The spill's at about one o'clock. Fairly big. Pyro, could you keep any flames contained?"

"Yeah. I can move them away from the fuel. Once they're isolated, they'll burn themselves out pretty quick."

"Okay. Iceman, once the _Kelly_ is in place and pumping, I want you to surround both ships with an ice dam. The currents will bring us close to the reef, and we need to keep the oil _away_ from it."

Bobby nodded. "Topaz can buzz me if you need help with any rescues." The air around him steamed as he shifted into his ice form.

"Aim for height, not thickness," Will advised. "If we have to leave, the ship will still be able to ram through."

"Right." He created an ice slide and, anchoring it to the deck, used it to leave the ship. He began to circle the perimeter of the oil slick, leaving the ice dam in his wake.

Domenic stayed on the deck to finish setting up the triage area, and the others flew towards the wreckage… Meggan with St. John, Rogue carrying Will, and Topaz bringing along her levitation disk to serve as a stretcher.

The _Breaker Morant_ had a gaping hole in her port side, through which oil was pouring out onto the surface of the water. The loss of so much of her cargo had affected the ship's balance, and she was beginning to list to her starboard side. A column of smoke, leaking from the top of the hole, indicated that there was a fire burning somewhere inside the ship.

"We'll start at the bridge and work our way down," Will decided. "Pyro, can you calm things down around us?"

"No worries. Lower me onto the roof, Meggan." Once she did so, St. John diverted the flames, sending them off in a stream that burned harmlessly in the air.

Meggan peered through the smoke as the flames died down. "There's someone in there." She flew through one of the broken windows of the bridge, coming out a moment later with an unconscious man. "He's very weak."

"Smoke inhalation, probably," Rogue said. "Get him to Avalanche and tell him to start an Oh-Two line."

Meggan nodded. "I'll be right back."

As Meggan flew off, the others entered the bridge, which was starting to clear of smoke. There was little physical damage, but a thick layer of soot covered everything. A tear in the flooring was starting to admit more smoke into the room.

Will moved over to the stairs and looked down. "The hatch leading belowdecks is shut. Rogue, Pyro…"

Rogue nodded and descended the stairs, St. John close behind her. She touched her hand to the hatch, jerking it back when her glove got scorched. "Not good."

"Hold on," Topaz told them. She muttered a short phrase, and they were all surrounded by a reddish aura. "It's a shield against fire," she explained. "Won't help if our lungs get baked, though."

"We'll risk it," Will said. He nodded to Rogue, and she opened the hatch.

What lay behind it was eerily beautiful.

The way down to the hold was a square staircase, which seemed to have been damaged by the initial explosion. The engine room, or what was left of it, lay a good ten meters below the end of the staircase.

A pool of diesel fuel, about a meter deep, lay below them. Flames danced atop it, clawing their way up the walls. The heat, even through their shields, was almost concussive in its intensity.

Topaz tapped Rogue on the arm, then pointed downward. Following the younger woman's aim, Rogue saw a body slumped over a large pipe. "Alive?" she mouthed. Topaz nodded.

Rogue tapped Will's shoulder to get his attention, then pointed down at the body. When he nodded, she jumped off the staircase and floated down. After doing a quick check to make sure that the man had no spine of neck injuries, she turned him over. His face was heavily bruised… most likely from the impact with the pipe, she guessed… but his breathing was steady. She picked him up in a fireman's carry and flew up, placing him on Topaz's disk.

"Anyone else?" Will asked Topaz. When she shook her head, he turned to St. John and nodded.

St. John held out his hands, and the flames sped towards the center of the room, coalescing into a tornado of fire that spun rapidly. A gesture lifted it into the air, cutting off its fuel. It shrank inward as it consumed itself, and, finally, faded away.

"Okay," Will said carefully, as the temperature started to drop, "let's keep moving."

Meggan caught up with them by the time they reached the third bulkhead. "That first one we found was the captain," she told them. He thinks that most of the crew is two decks below us. That's where the central pumps are located."

Will nodded. "I don't want to cut through the deck plates… no telling what things are like below us. We'll walk down, and take things as they come." He pulled a Mini-Maglite out of a coat pocket. "The internal lights are probably out." He glanced at the injured man that topaz carried, then tapped his communicator. "Archetype to Avalanche. I'm sending a casualty to you. Concussion and minor burns, possible smoke inhalation."

_"Copy."_

Once the sailor was away, they started making their way down to the next deck. This proved to be a challenge, due to the fact that the ship's tilt was increasing. Topaz exhaled in frustration after she tripped for the third time. "The heck with this." She floated above the deck, and picked Ororo up with her. "This'll be faster."

"Good idea," Meggan agreed. She picked up St. John, Rogue grabbed Will, and they all flew towards the stairway.

Once they reached the proper deck, Meggan and Topaz were able to sense the pain of the crew. "How far ahead?" Will asked them.

"Twenty meters or so," Meggan told him.

He nodded, aiming his flashlight beam down the length of the bulkhead. "Looks clear. Watch your footing once you touch down." His communicator beeped. "Archetype here."

_"This is Iceman. I've finished the dam. Where do you need me?"_

"I'll let you know once we've reached our vics. Stand by." He nodded to Rogue, she let him down, and they started moving forward.

"She's listing more," St. John observed. The ship's tilt, in fact, had become bad enough for the non-flyers to need to lean against a wall for support.

"The tanks on the other side are still leaking," Ororo told him. "She'll probably be on her side before she settles down."

"Oh, _lovely_."

Will suddenly stopped and cursed. "Rogue, Meggan, fly up ahead. Get that hatch open _now_!"

"What's wrong?" Ororo asked.

"Anybody who's unconscious is going to have a _big_ problem if this tilt gets any worse. We have to get to them before people start slamming into walls."

As Rogue pried the bulkhead door open, looked into the gap bring created. "Looks like four or five people!" she yelled back, as she began to assist Rogue.

"Grab as many as you can and lean them against something that's bolted to the floor," Will instructed.

Right," she confirmed as she shifted her form to one thin enough to make it through the gap in the door. She slipped into the room as Rogue finished pulling the door open.

By the time the others reached the bulkhead, Rogue had it fully open. They stepped in to find that Meggan had already managed to move four crewmen to safety, leaning them against a large pipe that appeared to be a smokestack. "Five more," she said, gesturing downward. The crewmen she indicated were either unconscious, or too weak and disoriented to stop their slide as the deck beneath them shifted.

Rogue and Topaz moved swiftly, grabbing two injured each. As the last one neared him, just out of reach, Will grabbed Ororo by the wrist. Spinning around, he swung her out far enough for her to grab the injured man's jacket. He and St. John pulled them both back up.

"A little warning next time, " Ororo asked Will.

"Sorry, no time." He slapped his communicator pin. "Archetype to Iceman."

_"Iceman here."_

"You feel up to stretching your powers a bit?"

* * *

Captain Turnbull stood at the wheel of the _Ned Kelly_, tapping his fingers impatiently. "How far along are we with the cleanup?"

"About forty percent full," the second mate told him, glancing at a monitor. He looked up at the captain, then stared at something just beyond him. "WHAT THE F…"

"Language, Mick," Turnbull said quietly as he looked out onto the water, where a massive iceberg was forming underneath the _Breaker Morant_, lifting her up and out of the water. The column of ice reshaped itself as it grew, forming a depression just below the damaged ship that allowed the leaking oil to pool into a contained spot.

"Here they come," Mick said, pointing to where an ice slide was nearing the _Ned Kelly_. "Looks like they have more wounded."

Turnbull nodded. "Switch Wallace and Ortiz to medical duty. Then come back and take the wheel."

"Yessir."

Once he had someone at the conn, Turnbull headed sternward, where he found the superhumans working with his crew to stabilize the wounded. "How bad is it?" he asked the white-haired woman.

"Smoke inhalation, mostly. Most of the burns are superficial. Topaz is stabilizing the two who were worst off. A few broken bones, and one man may have hearing damage. Concussions all around."

Turnbull nodded grimly. "I've seen worse from this sort of thing. At least you got to them fast."

"They'll still need hospital care," the teleporter said as he cleaned his glasses.

"The U.S. Navy diverted a cruiser our way. Should be here in an hour or so."

"They'll have the resources," he agreed. "How's the cleanup going?"

"It'll take a few days. We'll have to break it off to empty our tanks, then come back."

The teleporter frowned, thinking. "I might be able to cut that down. Where do you go to empty the tanks?"

"Vancouver."

"Got a map of the city?"

* * *

"That's right, Mister Willett. The tank just filled itself. One minute it was empty, and ten minutes later, it was filled to the brim…"

* * *

By emptying the tanks of the _Ned Kelly_ as they neared capacity, and bringing in new diesel fuel as needed, Ecologix was able to keep the cleanup going for eight straight hours… and to remove all but trace amounts of the oil from the water.

Rogue and Meggan were able to assist the repair crew that the U.S. Navy provided, shuttling equipment and supplies back and forth. Bobby shrunk the dam as the water was cleared of oil, and the others assisted in the transfer of the wounded to the Naval vessel.

When, finally, the last welds had cooled, Bobby dissolved his iceberg, and the _Breaker Morant_ floated one again… if a bit lopsidedly.

"We radioed for two tugs to drag her to Vancouver," the captain of the Naval vessel told Will. "There's a repair dock there to refit her."

Will nodded. "Is she salvageable?"

"They'll need to rebuild two tanks and the engine room, but she'll sail again eventually."

"Then, Captain, I officially relinquish possession of the _Breaker Morant_ to your custody. If you have no objections, my team and I will be on our way."

"None at all. You've all earned some rest."

* * *

After cleaning up, then collapsing into their beds for a four-hour nap, the team went down to the beach for a celebratory dinner. Since no one was in the mood to cook, Will teleported to Honolulu and back for a pizza-and –beer run.

"To the successful debut of Ecologix," Ororo said, raising her bottle.

"Here, here," was the reply as bottles (and cans, since St. John had insisted on Foster's, and Will had soda) clinked.

"Remind me to write up some sort of press release tomorrow," Will asked Rogue as he munched on his pizza. "We'll fax it to that reporter who interviewed us."

"Are we going to slam the company?" Domenic asked.

"No reason to. They acted quickly to solve the problem, and there's no evidence so far to suggest that they were negligent. The dead crew can't speak for themselves, and any accusations would only hurt their families. It's best to let the regulatory agencies handle this."

"And we have to be pragmatic," Topaz pointed out. "Nobody's going to call on us for help if they think that we'll just bad-mouth them afterwards."

Ororo nodded in agreement, then winced and rolled her shoulder. Both Meggan and Topaz gave her sympathetic looks. "Pull something?" Topaz asked.

"Probably when I used you as a lasso," Will said wryly. "Want a rubdown?"

"It might help," Ororo admitted.

"I'll do it," Domenic volunteered as Will started to get up. Ororo glanced at him, then nodded agreeably, rolling over onto her stomach.

Topaz watched Ororo groan with relief as her shoulder relaxed, then nudged Bobby, who sat next to her. "I want one, too," she said with a pout.

"If the end result will be you two naked," Will interrupted, "then I'd prefer it if you went to your room."

"Sure," Topaz said as she rolled onto her feet, "tie my hands."

"I'd say that's more 'Tana's kink," he disagreed.

Topaz laughed hysterically as she and Bobby left… though the laughter changed at one point, Bobby having found a ticklish spot.

Meggan grinned, then looked at Will. "Why don't you wait until morning to send me back? We could both use the sleep."

"Sounds good," he agreed. He looked at Rogue. "Shall we?"

"Let's. Night, guys."

As they walked back towards the residential wing, Rogue took Will's hand in her gloved one. "What'cha thinking about?"

"We did good today. The men we picked up should all recover, we cleaned up all of the oil, the ship was salvaged, and we didn't even have to fight anybody. No downsides."

"That's unusual," she admitted, "but I'm not complaining."

"It… _felt_ right, doing all of that." He stopped and turned to her. "Right now, at this moment, everything in my life feels _right_, like I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be. I'm doing work that benefits people on a global scale, and I feel like it's just a prelude." He ran his hands down her arms. "I'm in love with a beautiful, amazing woman who's willing to put up with the craziness in my life."

"A woman who you make feel loved, and very happy. One who isn't pitying herself anymore, and who feels as normal as any other woman." She leaned close to him. "And who loves you very, very much."

"Let me show you."

With a seductive look, she led him up to their bedroom.


	72. Chapter 72

_The Eygptian Desert, west of Abydos_

The old man cursed as his Jeep hit yet another bump. He grumbled to himself, again, that he would never again lend it to his nephew. The idiot boy had somehow managed to ruin the suspension forever.

Looking at the clock, he estimated that he had about three hours until dawn. That would give him enough time to finish his business, and still return in time for morning prayers. He wasn't a particularly devout man, but knew that he had to maintain his standing within the community.

He looked at his GPS unit, then at his map. It was around here somewhere…

_There!_ he thought to himself. He aimed the jeep over another dune, then floored the gas to outrun the cascade of sand that followed him as he descended onto a dead-flat plain.

His contact was standing in his usual spot, right in front of what looked like an early attempt at a pyramid. It wasn't in very good shape, the old man decided. The desert winds had obviously been wearing away at it for centuries.

Parking the Jeep, the old man stepped out and approached his contact. "Salaam."

_"That is far enough," _he was told,_ "and peace is __**not**__ my goal this night. Have you made the arrangements?"_

The old man winced inwardly. As usual, this customer had no sense of manners. The rewards more than made up for it, though… _"And the matter of my final payment?"_

A sack was picked up and negligently thrown to him. Bending down with a grunt, the old man opened it, and promptly gasped.

Gold. _Pharonic_ gold. The falcon of Horus, the Eye of Ra, and the cats of Bastet all looked at him. The sack weighed a good thirty kilos, and the old man had to struggle to get it into the Jeep.

Standing up straight again, he took a cell phone out of the car and activated it. _"Said, it's Uncle Gamil. Deliver the packages. Come home on the next available flight."_ He rolled his eyes. _"No, I don't want any souvenirs."_ He shut the phone off. _"Idiot."_

_"They will be placed at the locations I specified?"_

_"Yes, __**Inshall-**__"_

_"__**I**__ am willing," _was the snapped reply. _"That is all that is necessary."_

The old man blinked. _"Of course. Do you require anything more of me?"_

_"If I do, I will contact you. Go."_ He glanced upwards. _"A storm is coming."_

Noting that there were, indeed, signs of an approaching sandstorm, the old man hurried into his Jeep. _"Can I give you a ride into town?"_ he offered.

_"I assure you, I will survive."_

The old man shrugged, started the truck, and drove off. The storm hit full force just as he made it back over the dune. Glancing into the rear-view mirror, he saw the pyramid seem to disappear into the blowing sands.

But why, he thought to himself, did it seem to _sink_?

* * *

_Salem Center, several weeks later_

"Henry?"

"Yes, Will?"

"I've just been in the kitchen."

"And?"

"There's a pile of test tubes and flasks in the sink."

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that. Am I going to have to scrub the kitchen down with bleach?"

"Oh, no, they were just dusty. I'll get to them right after this show."

"I need the sink to make lunch."

"It'll just be a few minutes…"

"Do I need to put unscented Nair in your shampoo?"

"I'm moving."

After Henry left the room, Will sat down and changed the channel. _Let's see what Norm's building this week…_

Just as the show ended, he heard the front door open. Craning his neck a bit, he could see Rogue, Ororo, and Topaz entering, each carrying several shopping bags full of clothes. "Did you leave anything for the other customers?" he asked.

"They have plenty of overcoats to look through," Ororo assured him.

"How generous of you."

"Started lunch yet?" Rogue asked.

"As soon as Henry's finished." He blinked as his phone began to buzz. "Maybe not." Taking it out of his pocket, he saw the caller and grimaced. "Hawaii."

"Who's on duty?"

"Meggan and St. John." He activated the phone. "Riley. Where? _They_ called _us_? Damn, must be bad. Give us fifteen minutes. Ask them for a topographic map of the area, and tell them we'll need as many medical supplies and personnel as they can spare… with at least a few English speakers among them. Okay, out."

"Where?" Topaz asked.

"China. Flooding along the Yangtze caused a mudslide that's buried at least three villages." He turned towards the kitchen. "Hank…"

"I heard," Henry yelled back. "I can manage lunch, and I'll inform Charles."

"Thanks." He jumped off the couch. "Let's suit up."

* * *

The Three Gorges Dam, designed to control the annual flooding of the Yangtze River, was one of the largest feats of engineering ever attempted by man. The Chinese, facing a ravenous need for energy to feed the hypergrowth of their economy, tended not to notice those whose homes were displaced by the construction. Many of the workers lived in hastily-built shantytowns along the banks of the river, ignoring the fact that they were living on what was essentially a silt bed.

The collapse of one side of the valley was so sudden that it took the better part of an hour for news to reach the proper levels of the bureaucracy. Another three hours of discussion made it obvious that the government's superpowered units did not have the needed skills for the situation.

It was a mid-level minister, one whose son had a fascination with the superhumans of the West… particularly the women… who proposed the idea of calling on the new team. They professed to being non-political, and so would likely not report what they saw to any government. Their array of powers seemed well-suited for the task, as well.

If the plan succeeded, the minister could expect rewards. If not… well, _someone_ had to do that census of camels in the Gobi Desert…

* * *

Ecologix came through a Door about one hundred meters above the flooded area. Domenic spoke for them all.

"Dear God…"

The entire southern bank of the river had collapsed, and what looked like two or three cubic miles of silt and mud had buried dozens, if not hundreds, of buildings. The roofs of some of them could barely be seen. There wasn't a person to be found.

Will forced himself to stay focused on the practical. "Meggan, there should be a Peoples' Army unit headed this way. Can you see them?"

Meggan looked around, casting her vision forward. "Yes. They're about five kilos north of us."

"Okay. Go intercept them. We're going to need a map of the villages, and somebody who can translate for us. We need to know where the civic buildings were. That's the most likely place to find survivors."

As Meggan sped off, Will instructed Topaz to descend. "Domenic, how much can you do with this soil?"

Domenic stretched out his hands, testing the ground's reaction to his influence. "Not much," he said in frustration. "It's so waterlogged that anything I do is gonna fall apart a few seconds later."

"I could freeze it," Bobby suggested.

"I'm not sure it would help. We'd still need somewhere to put it."

"I'm hoping that the unit coming this way can help with that," Will said. "We might get lucky and have a sand or gravel pit nearby."

"Let's hope."

Meggan returned a few minutes later, with a young woman in the classic Red Army uniform cradled in her arms. "This is Lieutenant Shen. She's the unit's translator."

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Will said briskly. "We need someplace to move the debris. Is there an area nearby that's been abandoned? A mine or pit somewhere?"

Shen frowned and looked at her map. "Yes. A gold mine, about thirty kilometers due east."

"Can you get the area evacuated?"  
"Give me a moment." She spoke rapidly into her cell phone for a minute or so. "It will take about twenty minutes."

He nodded. "Topaz, do you have a way to 'tag' Rogue or Meggan, so that I can track them? I want to start moving this stuff the second I know the area's safe."

Topaz nodded. "Rogue, give him your belt." Once Rogue did so, Topaz clasped the hand that Will held the belt in and muttered a few short phrases. "There. You'll be able to sense its direction and distance from you."

"Once I've got a fix on the area, get back here," Will told Rogue as she slipped the belt back on.

"Right." She turned to Shen. "Which way?"

Shen pointed. It's a large area. You won't miss it."

"Okay, here's the plan," Will told the rest of them as Rogue flew off. "Iceman, you'll set up some ice dams that will surround the main buildings." He looked at Shen. "Where's the school?"

"Here," she pointed.

"Okay, we'll start with that. Once we have them isolated, we can clear out the mud and evac one building at a time." He turned to Domenic. "While we're doing that, you and Storm will be working together to clear out the lion's share of the mud."

"How?" Ororo asked.

"I'll set up a large Door… not too tall, but very wide. He'll get a wave of mud heading towards it, and you'll use gusts of wind to keep the wave moving. Hopefully, you'll be able to clear off the top layers fairly quickly.

"Pyro, you set up the triage area. Once Iceman has the buildings surrounded, We'll start draining the mud… I'll open up a Door near ground level. Once we can get access to the roof, we'll make our way inside and start moving them up here. Just try to keep any injured stable until the medics get here."

Shen, who was listening intently, nodded as Will finished. "Can I have a moment to inform my commanding officer of your plan?" When Will nodded, she activated her cell phone and spoke quickly into it in Mandarin. She then listened, he face becoming angry and distressed. She spoke tightly, appearing to argue with the person on the other end of the line. She closed her eyes, reigning in her temper, muttered _"Shi_," and turned the phone off.

"What is it?" Will asked.

"The school is not your priority," she said tightly. "_This_ is." She stabbed a finger at another area of the map.

"What's there?" Shen didn't reply. "We're not doing a damn thing until I get an answer," he informed her.

Shen grimaced. "It's the local Party headquarters."

"And who's there?"

"Executives from the company working this site. And their Party liaison."

Will's lips set into a tight line. "We will rescue the children _first_. They will be next. If they don't like it, they can go to hell."

Shen blinked, then grinned. "Can I quote you on that? I want to see if I can hear my commanding officer's head explode over the phone."

"I _like_ her," Topaz commented.

"I'll leave it to you to word in more diplomatic language, Lieutenant. Right now, we have to get to work. Iceman, if you'll begin…?"

Bobby nodded and took a few steps away from them. A moment later, the air around him steamed as he shifted to his ice form. He walked towards the area above the school, the mud freezing beneath his feet.

"No slide?" Domenic asked.

"The ground's too unstable, "Bobby replied. "Nothing to anchor to."

He sent a small streamer of ice into the mud, moving it around until it hit something solid. "I found the building. Is it the only one around here?"

"Check the size," Shen said, looking at her map. "It could be the tool shed."

"No," he said after a second, "it's too big for that. Let me get the outline."

Continuing along, Bobby followed the outline of the building, leaving a frozen path behind him. After about four minutes, he returned to where he had started. An outline of the building was visible on the ground. "You guys might want to take a step back," he advised.

Once the others were a safe distance away, Bobby reached out and started building an ice wall underneath him, angling it slightly so that it avoided directly touching the building. He made another circuit around the school, then increased the mass and density of the wall until it was about half a meter thick.

_"Rogue to Archetype,"_ the communicator on Will's lapel chimed. _"I'm in position."_

"Just hold still for a few seconds," he advised. He concentrated for a few moments, then looked to his right. Rogue appeared about half a meter off the ground.

"I was right above the mine shaft," she told him.

_"Good." _He looked down, and the mud began to drain away. As he neared where he estimated the top of the building was, he stopped. _"I don't know exactly where the structure is," _he explained,_ "and I don't want to take out a wall by mistake."_

"You've got about a meter to go," Bobby told him. "Open another Door… a small one… near the edge of the wall, about two meters down, and you'll be below the top of the roofline."

Will nodded and concentrated. The roof became visible about a minute later. _"Rogue, Topaz, Meggan, you'll shuttle to kids to the high ground. Take the Lieutenant with you to translate. Iceman, you and I have the Party members next."_ He took the map from Shen, and he and Bobby moved towards the next target.

Rogue pried off part of the school's roof as gently as she could, and Topaz lifted the children out about ten at a time, while Meggan and Rogue took one in each arm. Shen stayed behind to coordinate with the teachers. Bobby and Will returned a few minutes later, and a new Door sped up the pace of the evacuation considerably.

Rogue noticed that Bobby was grinning widely. "What's so funny?"

"We may not be invited back any time soon."

She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "What'd he do?"

"Once we got the government stooges out, one of them started yelling and getting in our faces. Was ranting about how big he was in the Party, so much more important than a bunch of kids. Will finally got sick of it and decked him. Then he said, 'You're welcome.'."

Rogue turned to Will, who had the grace to look guilty. "You're incorrigible," she told him.

_"Then stop incorriging me,"_ he said lightly. He turned to Shen. _"How many more?"_

"Another two classes. About one hundred or so."

_"Good. What's the next area?"_

"Residential units, over there?"

_"How many units?"_

"Five hundred."

He sighed. _"That's going to take forever."_

Meggan tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. "I think _they_ can help."

Will turned and nodded in approval. The rest of Shen's unit had arrived.

* * *

After a discussion with the unit's commander, Major Li, the rescue plan moved forward. Bobby froze a path thick enough to allow the military trucks to travel safely, and the soldiers followed Ecologix to the housing area. Li ordered his men to break up into squads. As each housing unit was uncovered, the squad would do the last of the digging, and evac the civilians onto the transports. This allowed Ecologix to do the bulk of the heavy work. Rogue righted collapsed walls, which Bobby reinforced. Meggan calmed upset survivors. Topaz sensed where the injured were, and stabilized those who were worst off. Ororo, Domenic, and St. John each joined a medical team and assisted with the first aid.

"Where's the nearest large hospital?" Will asked Major Li at one point (with the assistance of Lieutenant Shen).

"About fifty kilos from here," was the reply. "I called for helicopters twenty minutes ago, so they should be another ten minutes or so. Another squadron is coming from my base. If Iceman can build us a landing field, we should be able to stagger landings to every five minutes."

"How big do you need it?"

"About a hectare."

A quick discussion with Bobby got the landing field prepared, and the choppers were soon transporting a dozen at a time.

Even with Bobby and Domenic's help, it was slow going, since the depth of the mud made walking slow and difficult. At one point, Rogue collapsed against Will in a mock faint. "I _so_ need a bath," she moaned.

"Count your blessings," he told her chidingly. "Think of how much you'd have to pay for a mud bath like this back in New York."

"Yeah, but there I'd be naked."

"I won't say anything if you won't."

"Okay. I'll just sneak behind that house over there."

"Just let me get my camera."

"You two flirting again?" St. John asked as he walked over.

"Nah," Rogue told him, "we decided to skip the flirting and get straight to the smut."

"Fair enough. More choppers in two minutes."

"How's the sweep of the houses going?"

"Already done. Amazing how quickly a search goes when you have a full brigade doing it."

"Remind me to thank Major Li personally," Will asked Rogue.

"Right. What's the body count?"

"Just one," Pyro said. "Heart attack from the shock. She was dead before we got here."

"We got off easy," Will concluded. "Everyone was inside and sheltered when the bank collapsed."

_"Mister Archetype!"_

They turned to see Lieutenant Shen moving towards them as quickly as the mud would allow. "Yes, Lieutenant?" Will replied.

"I just heard something that you should know."

"What is it?"

"I was asking the residents if they had seen anything unusual recently. One of the subcontractors we use at the dam is an Egyptian firm… they worked on the Aswan Dam, I think. One of their men was seen wandering around by the southern bank yesterday."

"Good. You have a possible suspect."

"But he was also seen at the _northern bank_."

Will felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "_Iceman!_ Build a dome over everybody! Thick as you can make it!"

Bobby blinked. "What…"

"Do it! _Now!_" He looked to Rogue. "Get us to the wall."

Rogue grabbed him, and they sped towards the other side of the river, where the retaining wall for the bank loomed over them. "Where!?" she shouted.

"Near the base. Maximum damage."

Meggan appeared beside them, straining to catch up. "What is it!?" she yelled to them.

"Another bomb!" Rogue yelled back. "Can you find it?"

Meggan threw her senses forward, then grimaced in frustration. "I need to get closer!"

"No! Will snapped. "Stay nearby. We go in as a group." Meggan nodded, and started shifting her skin to something denser.

As they neared the northern bank, Meggan detected a small electrical field. "Found it!"

"Don't go near it," Will ordered. "It may have a proximity trigger. Here." He reached into his coat and pulled out the laser sight for his gun. "Point at it."

Meggan nodded and took the sight. Activating it, she aimed it towards a point near the base, almost dead center to the retaining wall. "It's buried."

"How deep?"

"Can't tell."

Will thought frantically for a few seconds. "Okay, here's what we do. Meg, you stay here and keep an eye on it. If anything about it changes, you yell. Rogue, you and I hit the ground and approach on foot."

"Turn on your amulet," Rogue advised.

Will nodded, raising the wards as they descended. They landed about fifty meters away from the area that Meggan had indicated. A quick glance of the area revealed a spot where the soil was somewhat looser than the surrounding area. Wiping away the soil gently, Rogue exposed a smooth metal cylinder, about the size of a golf bag. "You could pack a lot of plastique into this thing," she said in a whisper.

"It might be a shaped charge," he murmured back, "aimed to wipe out the dam." He looked the cylinder over. "I don't see any place to access it. Not even any seams."

He stepped closer to the device, only to land on his ass as he walked directly into what felt like a solid wall.

Rogue blinked. "What the hell was that?"

Will, who was slightly dazed, shook hi head to clear it. "I don't know. Some kind of force field?"

"Then how did _I_ get through?"

"Maybe it's directed against magic?"

"No, I doubt it. Maybe it let me through because I'm… a…" Her voice trailed off.

"Rogue?"

"It's because I'm a mutant," she told him quietly. "X-Factor's old ship had something similar." She looked up at him in growing horror.

"It was Apocalypse's ship, once."

Will hesitated for only a moment. "Get away from it. _Now_." As he finished speaking, the object began to emit a low hum, which gradually grew higher in pitch.

"Move!" he yelled, as he started backing away.

Rogue ran after him, grabbing him and taking to the air as quickly as she dared. As she did so, Will slapped his communicator.

"Ecologix, it's a trap! Repeat, _it's a trap!_"

Meggan flew over to them before she could be warned off. "What's…"

The next sound heard was a deafening explosion. A heartbeat later, it was followed by the rumble of the bank collapsing, and the onrush of a wall of water and mud nearly twenty meters high.

Will's mind worked frantically. "Meggan," he snapped, "get ready to catch Topaz." Two seconds later, Meggan had the younger woman cradled in her arms.

"I need you to boost me," Will told Topaz. "Everything you can give me."

Topaz looked daunted for a moment, but gathered herself together quickly. "Brace yourself," she warned. She clenched her fists, crossing her arms over her chest, and seemed to coil inward for a moment.

Will writhed in Rogue's grip, then composed himself through sheer willpower. His eyes, blazing with power, fixed on the approaching deluge. He crossed his arms in a manner similar to Topaz, then screamed in exertion as he drew them apart.

A Door, easily one hundred meters across and thirty wide, opened underneath them, acting as a drain to collect the water. "Where's it going?" Meggan asked.

"Who _cares!?_" Rogue snapped back. "Iceman, copy!"

_"Iceman here."_

"Get your butt to my location _now!_ Neither of them can keep this up for long," she told Meggan. "We have to seal the dam before they're _both_ brain-fried."

"Ororo can keep the air temperature down. Anything Bobby does should last longer."

"Bobby froze the Empire State Building. He can manage this."

Bobby arrived about twenty seconds later, and got right to work. Moving forward on his slide, he sent down a stream of power so cold that it froze the onrushing water in a heartbeat. As he approached the retention wall, he reconfigured the ice into a massive dam, which sealed the gap created by the explosion. He then reinforced the wall, not stopping until it was nearly five meters thick.

Once the flow of water stopped, Rogue shook Will a little. "Will, _stop!_ It's safe!"

Will gasped, pitching forward for a moment as the Door slammed shut. Topaz twitched for a few seconds as well, then passed out.

"Rogue," Will whispered, "you've got command. Get the team together so I can get us home. I can't stay awake much longer."

Rogue nodded, then slapped her communicator. "Storm, turn command over to Major Li. We're returning to base immediately."

* * *

Two days later, Will was still recovering from exhaustion. Topaz had been able to prevent him from aging too severely, but the effort had wiped her out as well. Light meals, paired with backrubs from Bobby, seemed to help her, but Will still remained fitfully asleep.

The Chinese government, once they were convinced that the destruction of the retaining wall was sabotage, had immediately expelled the Egyptian engineering firm, and was publicly considering expelling _all_ foreign workers on the dam project.

Their attitude towards Ecologix, however, was far more conciliatory. The team's efforts in the rescue, and the lengths they had gone to in protecting the villagers and troops, had made a very favorable impression on the upper levels of the Party. The minister who had suggested contacting the team was promoted onto a committee to form a similar unit composed of Chinese nationals.

His son later received what would become his prized possession – an autographed picture of the team.

The Party representative who had yelled at Will was reassigned. To camel census duty.

By the time Will had finally awoken, the story had hit the international news. He, however, was _not_ in a celebratory mood.

"We were _played_," he growled. "Don't they _get_ that?"

"The government wants to keep any mention of the bomb out of the press," Ororo told him. "They don't want to run the risk of a copycat."

"They've asked us to grin and bear it," Bobby added. When Topaz took me back to reinforce my dam, they said that it was the best spin they can put on it for now."

"Wonderful," Will spat. He was about to say something more when his phone buzzed. "The Mansion," he said, looking at the number.

"Yes?" he asked upon activating the phone. After a moment, he sighed. "Look, Xavier, this team is still fried, and we're not going to be of much use for… _what_ showed up?" He listened for a moment, his face hardening. "We'll be right there," he said quietly, closing the phone.

"What is it?" Ororo asked, shifting into leader mode.

"I've received a package. From Egypt."

* * *

"It arrived by messenger service about fifteen minutes ago," Scott told Will as soon as he had stepped out of a Door and onto the front yard of the Mansion.

'It' was a simple wooden crate, about a cubic meter in size. Will eyed it suspiciously. "You've analyzed it?" he asked Henry.

"Yes. There's no technology of any kind."

Will nodded, then glanced at Topaz. "Any magic?"

"None."

Will thought for a moment, then stepped towards the crate as Scott handed him a small pry bar. "Jean, could you set up a shield, just in case?" A heartbeat later, both Will and the crate were enclosed in a telekinetic bubble.

A few seconds of work proved sufficient to remove the lid of the crate. Will dug through a thin layer of straw until he felt something solid. Tossing the straw aside, he looked into the box. His expression, if anything, became even grimmer. With a few snaps of the pry bar, the sides of the crate clattered to the ground. What was revealed could be best described as a small stone monument, with inscriptions in several languages… the prominent one being Egyptian hieroglyphics.

Will looked at Topaz. "Can you read any of these?"

Topaz circled the edge of Jean's shield, studying the stone. "Yes. This part's in Sanskrit."

"Translate, please."

Topaz nodded. "'Greetings, my enemy. By now, you will have recovered enough wits to realize that you were duped.

"'I must admit to some amusement when I heard of your grand plans. They seemed so arrogant. You, a defender of nature? You were unable to protect your family, or the woman you profess to love. How could you possibly hope to do so on a global scale? What truly shocked me, however, was that the weak sheep of this world actually accepted your delusion.

"'I decided that it was necessary for the world to be reminded of the true reality of nature: that it is a crucible through which the weak and unfit are removed, and the strong tested.

"'My choice of target was, I must admit, a whim. I was offered an insult there during the Zhou Dynasty, and never took action against the people. Consider the scale of this attack compounded interest.

"'You behaved as I expected you would, seeking out the weak and helpless. It never occurred to you that the purpose of my strike was to draw you in.

"'Now you have been humiliated and disgraced before one of the world's great nations. Your noble goals have been thwarted, and you have been shown, once again, to be helpless against me.

"'I am fit. I survive. And I remain your better, and inevitable master. En Sabah Nur, the High Lord Apocalypse.'"

As Topaz finished speaking, Will, who had been glaring at the stone, glanced up at her to confirm that she was done. His eyes then moved to Jean, who lowered her barrier. Without speaking a word, he went inside.

His time spent in the Hellfire program would set an all-time X-Men record.


	73. Chapter 73

Janus was used to people coming to the Knight's Cup Club at all hours, so he wasn't surprised when Rogue showed up early in the morning. What did surprise him was that she showed up alone. "Where's Archetype?" he asked her.

"He's why I'm here," was the reply. "I was told that there's always someone inside to let me in."

Janus nodded. "Ladies' Night is just wrapping up. Just knock on the inner door." He stepped aside, allowing her entry.

Saraswati was the one who answered Rogue's knock, and was visibly startled to see her. "Hello, Rogue."

"Good morning, Lady Saraswati," she replied politely. "May I please come in?"

"Of course." The door opened wider, and Rogue stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was that the inside of the club had changed. Instead of the dining and dance club she had seen on her last visit, it now resembled a roomy, yet cozy, cottage-style kitchen, complete with ovens, spice racks, and a multitude of delicious smells that set her mouth watering.

A number of women sat in various chairs and benches around the room. Several were sitting in a knitting circle, chuckling amongst themselves. A tall redhead with a creamy white complexion was tunelessly strumming a guitar. A cheerful-looking woman in a babushka sat at a table nearer to Rogue, slicing up carrots and dropping them into a pot. Closer to the hearth, a beautiful Asian woman in jeans and a plain white T-shirt sat in lotus position. Next to her, a small cat was curled up, taking a nap.

"Let me make the introductions," Saraswati offered. "Brigit, Mati Syra Zemlya, Kwan Yin, and Bast. You all know Rogue, of course."

"Isn't it time she dropped the silly nickname?" asked one of the women in the knitting circle… a very old woman, Rogue noticed.

"I like it," said another woman… a blonde who seemed to be close to Rogue in age. "It has style."

"She'll drop it when the time is right," the third woman said firmly. She appeared to be in her late forties, and had a very matronly look to her.

"You can natter among yourself later, ladies," Saraswati said in a firm voice. "Our daughter's come to us for help." She led Rogue over to one bench, and they both sat down. "Now, dear… what's wrong?"

Rogue, who had been a bit tense since entering the room, became a bit flustered. "I'm… not sure."

"Is it about Will?" Saraswati asked gently. "Has he done something?"

"No!" she protested. "He hasn't done anything to me. Something's wrong with _him_."

"But you're not sure what," Brigid said.

"That's right. He's clammed up on me. He won't talk about things."

"Typical," the old woman snorted.

"Be nice," Kwan Yin told her. "He's been under a lot of pressure."

"When did this start, dear?" Saraswati asked Rogue.

Rogue explained about the events in China and the message left by Apocalypse. "Since then, he's been spending all his time training. He's either in the Danger Room or with Topaz."

"He sounds obsessed," Brigid said.

Rogue thought about that. "I don't know if that's the right word… it's more like something's gnawing at him."

"Could be," the blonde said. "He wasn't just tricked. He had his face rubbed in it."

"And he's probably running through it all in his head," the motherly one said, "trying to see what he may have missed."

"He's chewing on old soup, is what he's doing," the oldest one grumbled.

"He was struck through something important to him," Mati Syra Zemlya said in a sober voice. "Typical for Apocalypse. Striking an enemy directly is beneath his ego."

"But he's withdrawing again," Rogue said in a small voice. "He won't talk about it with me, but I can see it. He's angry at Apocalypse, at himself… I don't know what I can do to help him."

As she spoke, she felt tears of bottled frustration welling in her eyes. She had been putting up a strong front at the Mansion, but talking about the problem had brought her emotions back up to the surface.

She started in surprise when she felt Saraswati embrace her. She looked up, and Saraswati gave her a comforting smile in reply.

"We're a bit beyond anything that your powers can affect. You don't have to worry about anything when you touch us."

As Rogue was trying to wrap her mind around that idea, the cat hopped up into her lap, purring audibly and kneading Rogue's thighs with her forepaws.

What happened next was so unusual that Rogue would later have trouble describing it, or even remembering with perfect clarity. She felt other sets of arms embracing her, even as Saraswati held her. Waves of love and comfort enveloped her like a warm blanket on a cold night, easing her fear and worry. She had the sudden image of herself as a baby again, being gently rocked to sleep.

She didn't know how long she sat there, wrapped up in unconditional love and affection, but when she opened her eyes, she was again sitting beside herself on the bench.

"Feel better?" Saraswati asked with a smile.

"Yes, much." She gave them all a grateful look. "Thank you."

"Is _is_ part of our job descriptions, _lubachaya_," Mati Syra Zemlya said with a smile.

"But we still need to address the problem," Brigid pointed out. "We need more information about Will's current condition."

"We agree," the three knitters said in unison.

"How best to observe him?" Kwan Yin asked.

"My daughter can keep an eye on him whenever he's at home," said a new voice.

Rogue turned to see a young woman close to her in age sitting nude on another bench. Her skin color and features suggested Middle Eastern ancestry. "Your daughter?" she asked the newcomer.

The woman smiled. "You call her Smoke, dear."

It took a moment for Rogue to process that. "Oh. You're Bast."

"Very good. You're learning quickly."

"I can keep attention on him if there's music playing," Brigid supplied. "Just keep the radio on for background noise."

"That'll be easy enough," Rogue agreed. "He likes to have music on anyway. But won't he know that you're keeping an eye on him?"

Brigid smiled. "We've been at this for a long time, Rogue… much longer than Will. He'll never sense us."

"Don't worry," Saraswati told her as she administered a comforting hug, "We'll find out what's going on. Now, you should have something to eat."

Rogue turned her attention to a table, right in front of her, that had not been there a moment before. A bowl of stew, with a side of brown bread, sat upon it. She glanced at Brigid. "Irish stew?"

"Of course. You did like it while you were in Ireland." She held out one hand, and a full pint glass materialized in it, "And the meal wouldn't be complete without a Guinness."

Rogue had to laugh. "Now I really do feel better."

Saraswati gave her a surprisingly devilish grin. "Then you should _really_ enjoy our monthly Girls' Sauna Night."

* * *

Rogue returned to the Mansion just before lunch, with a doggy bag containing leftover stew and bread. She placed the food in the fridge, with a note attached that read _Magic Food! Property of Rogue. Do Not Touch!_

(Bobby, looking for a snack later that day, gave the bag a speculative look. The writing on the note rearranged itself to read _Don't even think about it_. Bobby stayed in his room for the rest of the day.)

A quick check on her computer helped Rogue determine that Will was in his workshop. After a quick flight, she walked through the open door.

He had apparently teleported in one of the easy chairs from their room, and was facing away from her, staring into space. His elbows were on the armrests, his hands were folded, and his chin was resting on his extended thumbs… a pose which Rogue had seen him in before, one indicating that he was deep in thought.

After taking a moment to confirm that he hadn't registered her presence, Rogue marched up to the back of the chair. Gripping it by its sides, she yanked the entire chair upwards a good meter or so, sending Will flying and tumbling to the floor.

"Sulking time is _over_," she declared as he rolled up into a sitting position and shook his head to clear it.

"_Sulking_?" he asked incredulously.

"What the hell else do you want to call it? You've been obsessing ever since we got back. You won't go anywhere or talk to anyone. You've shut me out. Hell, you're even shoving Smoke aside when she wants to be petted.

"You got outmaneuvered. Deal with it. And keep this in mind when you do: Nobody else died while you were there. Apocalypse didn't get the body count he was probably hoping for. That's probably why his letter focused on the ecological damage, which really isn't an issue anyway, since that spot'll be underwater once the dam is finished."

Will was obviously still angry, but he conceded that point. "So there really isn't any long-term damage."

"And you just got a great reputation with the Chinese government. That'll be a big help in the long run, especially if your smokestack scrubbers get produced."

He thought silently for a few more moments, then flopped back into the chair. "This opened up a new can of worms, though."

"What's that?"

"Until this attack, I had one vulnerable spot that Nur could exploit: you and the other X-Men. I've been able to take what steps I can to protect all of you, and you're all more than capable of defending yourselves, to a point.

"But now Nur has another angle of attack to use, and it's a big one. There are sensitive natural areas all over the place that need protection. We can't possibly keep an eye on all of them, and I don't have the resources to extend my influence."

Rogue sat on the arm of the chair, considering the issue. "Could it be done magically?"

"At my current power levels? Probably not."

"You could try talking to the folks at the Knight's Cup Club. They'd probably be able to point you in the right direction, at least."

"It's worth looking into," he agreed. "Maybe we'll go there tonight."

"No. You're going to give yourself at least one day to get some distance from this. We'll just order in tonight and relax."

* * *

Will started awake at about two A.M. Glancing around in the dim light of the digital clock, he saw Rogue's form next to him. The deep, even sound of her breathing told him that she was asleep.

He rolled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. Rubbing his eyes, then the bridge of his nose, he tried to gather his thoughts.

What had woken him up? He had come to a realization during a dream, but now, in the waking world, stubbornly on the fuzzy edge of his awareness. It was something about Nur…

No… how to _counter_ him.

Unnoticed in the darkness, Smoke watched him smile grimly as he settled back into the bed.

* * *

"You want to talk to _who_?"

"Someone from the Celtic pantheon, Lady Saraswati," Will replied. "I think that they'd be the place for me to start."

"With what?"

"I'm looking for a way to counter Apocalypse. I believe that they may be able to point me in the right direction."

"Towards what, Mister Riley?"

Will and Rogue turned in their chairs to see Brigid, who was dressed in a traditional ensemble of black Kinsale cloak over a one-piece, ankle-length dress. She cradled a lap harp in one arm.

Will stood up and gave a small bow. "Lady Brigid, I presume?"

Brigid smiled. "While it can be risky to presume among our kind, you're correct." She pulled out another chair and sat down. "Venison, please, Saraswati."

"Of course. Rogue?"

"Filet mignon, medium well."

"And you, Will?"

"Roast turkey, please."

"Now," Brigid said once Saraswati had left, "what direction were you speaking of?"

Will took a deep breath. "I want to learn Druidic magic."

Brigid nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "You _do_ know what happened to Ludgate?"

He nodded. "That's why I want to ask a few questions before I make the request."

"Go ahead."

"And make sure that they're _good_ questions."

Brigid looked over at the new voice. "Hello, Damien."

The newcomer, a tall, elegant, redheaded man in a black suit, bowed respectfully to Brigid, then nodded politely to Will and Rogue. "I am called Damien Hellstorm. I am at no one's service."

Will gave a polite but cautious nod in reply. "You had some involvement in Ludgate's death, as I understand it."

"He became a global threat. I set events in motion which eliminated the threat."

Will brooded for a moment. "Then I'd like to address my questions to both of you, if that's acceptable."

Hellstorm and Brigid looked at each other, then back at Will. "It is," Brigid told him.

"Is the corruption that Ludgate underwent inevitable for anyone who takes on Druidic power?"

"No," Hellstorm answered.

"Is there a path that I can take which can enable me to serve as a defender for the natural world… without cutting myself off from humanity and the larger world? I can't do any good as a hermit, and I'm determined to stay with the X-Men."

"There is," Brigid told him.

"If I choose to take that path, will you tell me what my _geas_ will be?"

Brigid considered that one for a moment. "I will tell Rogue. Whether or not she chooses to tell you is her decision."

"Fair enough."

"I'm lost," Rogue confessed.

"Every Druid had, and has, a _geas_ placed upon them," Brigid explained. "It's something that they must _never_ do, at the risk of losing their power. It's a way of placing limits on them."

"Or neutralizing them, if required," Hellstorm added. "You're out of questions, Mister Riley."

Will nodded. "I guessed that it would be the customary three. Didn't want to waste one by asking."

Hellstorm nodded in approval. "You're no amateur, at least. Now, _I_ have a question for _you_."

"And that is?"

"Why do you want this kind of power? What's motivating you?"

_"Anger."_

Rogue, who had been looking at Brigid and Hellstorm, snapped her attention back to Will. His face was set in an expression of cold rage, and his eyes shone in the dim light of the room. His voice, instead of its usual echoing sound, was a feral growl reminiscent of Wolverine in a berserker rage.

_"Nur caused incalculable damage… he put the lives of my team at risk… he humiliated me, before the world… just to prove a point. _

_"He'll destroy everything, given time,"_ he said to Hellstorm_. "You know it as well as I do. I'm your best hope of stopping him… but I need every possible weapon in my arsenal if I'm to do so. He's now a global threat. Give me the capability to match him on a global scale."_

Hellstorm gave a grim nod of satisfaction in reply. "_That's_ a motivation I can agree with."

"So can I ," Brigid added. "Come here, Will."

As Will stood up, Hellstorm leaned towards Rogue. "Don't take what's about to happen personally," he told her in a low voice.

Once Will approached her, Brigid stood up. She placed one hand on his cheek, and the other on the back of his head. She then pulled him towards her, giving him a _very_ deep, intense kiss.

"Thanks for the warning," Rogue muttered to Hellstorm.

"Just wait, Rogue. Wait and watch."

Will's eyes, which had been closed, snapped open. He tried to draw back from the kiss, but Brigid tightened her grip, keeping him immobile. He tried pushing against her, but it was like trying to nudge a mountain aside. Strangled noises emerged from his throat.

Alarmed, Rogue started to get up to help Will, but Hellstorm put a hand on her shoulder and, impossibly, pulled her back down onto her seat. "Too late," he told her. "He's committed now."

Within a few seconds, Will was trembling violently. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he went completely limp, his body being supported entirely by Brigid's grip of his skull. When she let go, he collapsed into a heap on the floor. A facial twitch was the only sign that he was still alive.

"He'll need a day or two to recover," Brigid told him as she calmly wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I'll help you take him to his room here in the Club."

Rogue just gaped. "What did you _do_ to him?!?"

"I poured a lot of information into his mind at one time. It's going to take him a while to sift through it all."

"Does he drink?" Hellstorm asked her.

Rogue blinked. "No, why?"

Hellstorm gave her a surprisingly gleeful grin. "Then you'll have the honor of nursing him through his first hangover."

* * *

_"Grrrnnnngggghhhh."_

"Oh, good," Rogue said, as she looked up from her book. "You're awake."

"Yrrrgh."

"Not quite?"

Will lifted the pillow off his head then slammed it back down over his eyes. "Somebody turn off the sun."

She smiled and dimmed the lamp. "Better?"

He uncovered one eye and looked warily around the room. "Slightly."

"Hungry?"

He shook his head. "My stomach's apparently practicing for Olympic gymnastics."

She chuckled sympathetically. "How's your head?"

"I feel like I have a size thirteen quadruple E brain inside a size nine skull."

"You want to get some more rest?"

"Won't help. Might as well face the day."

"The night, you mean. It's almost seven."

"Is it? Oy. Did you eat anything?"

She nodded. "I was sent some nice stew by Lady Brigid. It was given, and I quote, without expectation of obligation or service."

"Oh, good. Means I won't have to conquer Fairyland to take you home." He sat up, then clutched at his skull. "Ohhh, bad idea…"

"Want me to order you one of those hangover cures?"

"Wouldn't help. Similar symptoms, entirely different causes. All that'll help me is time to get my head straight." He stood up, noticed that he was nude, and shrugged.

"But a cold shower won't hurt," he muttered as he padded towards the bathroom.

* * *

Upon their return to the Mansion, Will asked that he be taken off the duty roster for the next few days. "It's going to take me a while to get my head straight," he explained, "and then I have to figure out the next step."

Scott and Ororo, to Will's surprise, simply nodded in understanding. "Ilyanna needed alone time, too," Scott explained.

"Would you like to use the gardens?" Ororo asked.

Will considered that. "I think that the woods would be a better choice. It's closer to what the landscape was back in the time that the Druids were in power. It's also a bit more isolated, in case something goes wrong."

"Such as?"

"Ororo, I honestly have no idea. This is uncharted territory for me. And on that note, it might be a good idea for Xavier, Jean, and Betsy to keep their shields fully up for the next few days. There's no telling what the psychic feedback from this is going to be."

"We'll arrange it. Go do what you have to do."

* * *

After an hour or so of searching the woods, Will found what he was looking for: a large oak tree, with sprigs of mistletoe hanging from its branches. A few minutes of work cleared a large patch of ground in front of the tree, and several rocks were moved to form a fire ring. He spent some time gathering dead branches and limbs, then started a fire, being careful to use only a bow and stick.

When the sun began to set, he undressed, then stuffed his clothes inside a hole in a nearby tree. He sat cross-legged in front of the fire, leaning back against the oak. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift, lowering his shields and allowing the music of the Chorus to guide him along.

_I know you're there, _he projected_. Lady Brigid said that you would answer, if I called. I have questions for you. A request. A proposal._

Will's usual perception of the Chorus leaned towards greys. Slowly, they grey was overtaken by an infinite variety of greens, mixing and mingling together. The usual whisper of music was replaced by the babble of flowing water, the whisper of wind stirring leaves. For the space of a few heartbeats, everything went dark.

When Will opened his eyes, he was… elsewhere.

* * *

Nearly every forest on earth has, in some way, been altered by the hand of man. Native Americans were burning strands of trees to drive out game centuries before Europeans arrived. Ireland's vast meadows are the result of centuries of the British hunger for wood to build their navy and fuel their Industrial Revolution. China and Japan have cut away hillsides, terracing them into rice paddies.

Wherever he was, Will realized quickly, it was most definitely a place that had _never_ been touched by man. The density of the forest was nearly oppressive… a tableau of leaves, massive limbs, and fallen trunks as far as he could see. The cover of the branches was so total that the only light which penetrated down to the ground was dim, tinted with the green of the leaves which had filtered it. The only sound to be heard was the bubbling of a spring as hit bubbled from a rock a few meters in front of him.

He felt, rather than saw, that he was being watched. Remaining absolutely still, he decided to let them… whoever or whatever 'they' were… make the next move.

The wind picked up, causing the leaves to shake. Within that rustle, he heard a voice, dusty from disuse.

_What does it want?_

Will responded slowly, choosing his words carefully. "You know the one I stand against. En Sabah Nur, the Apocalypse."

_It is so._

"You know what he has done, in the land of the yellow river."

_It is so._

"I seek the power to counter him… to prevent such a thing happening again. I seek a way to guard the natural order."

_What will it do?_

"I will work to heal the damage done to the natural world… by Apocalypse and man both. I will educate man of the consequences of their actions to the Mother. I will use my power… both magickal and of the world… to influence the development of practices that do no harm to the Mother."

His face became grim. "And I will exact _revenge_ against En Sabah Nur for his affront against Nature."

The rustling quieted for a moment, then intensified.

_Agreed. Prepare._

"A request, first."

_What does it want?_

"Ludgate was covered in tattoos when he was empowered. I need to blend in with the world if I am to be effective. If I am to be marked, can this mark be visible only when I use the power?"

There was a brief silence.

_Agreed._

"Then I am prepared."

_Feel the embrace of the Mother._

Before Will could consider that statement, he felt something wrap around his legs and waist. A heartbeat later, he was pulled down, into silence and darkness.

* * *

Time had lost all meaning. He had no way to know how long he had been underground, immobile. Cold had seeped deep into him, sapping his strength. He had ceased to think, and knew nothing but a craving for warmth and water.

He felt heat above him, and strained to reach it. A drop of water reached him, and he sucked it in greedily. Stretching upward with all his strength, he breached the surface.

The sunlight washed over him, filling him with strength. He stretched out still farther, taking it all in, and felt himself growing.

In time, he towered over everything else in the forest. Looking up, he could see the sun and moon above him, offering comfort and blessing.

Still later, he lost his footing in a heavy rain. He tumbled to the ground, feeling his arms break in the fall. As he lay there, damaged and dying, he felt insects and other small creatures crawling over him, biting into his body as it decayed and returned to the earth.

A part of him was eaten by a bird that had nested in his empty shell…

…and he took flight, soaring above the forest and seeing the vast expanse of land below him. He danced through the air, searching for food and water. Turning into the wind, he flapped his wings, loosening a feather which drifted off in his wake…

…and the feather was part of a mattress, atop which a woman lay, gasping in passion as her lover brought her to heights of pleasure. They both gasped at the moment of his release…

…and he was the fruit of their union, a fetus in the womb. He knew nothing but warmth and safety, until that day he was forced out, into a cold, bright world…

…and he was a boy, running through the woods, hunting a stag, loosing an arrow…

…and he was the stag, feeling the arrow rend heart and lung, crashing to the ground. His body decayed, returning to the earth…

* * *

He lay in darkness again, hearing the dusty voice:

_It understands the Great Wheel now. It will know how to heal, restore. It can draw strength from the Mother. Strength enough to defeat its foe. It can command the Wild, and will be obeyed. Fire and Water, Earth and Air will be its tools._

_Now, go, and be reborn._

* * *

"Rogue?"

Rogue startled at Topaz's light touch on her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"He's back. Walking to the house now."

She nodded. "Think we should wait, or go out to him?"

"It's better to wait. He may need some time to adjust."

"We'll meet him in the foyer, then."

The stone monument that Apocalypse had sent to Will had not been moved since it had arrived… mostly because no one was sure what to do with the thing.

A tendril of ivy, clinging to the side of the Mansion, suddenly loosed its grip, falling away from the wall and landing near the monument. It began to grow rapidly, attaching tendrils to the stone. Microscopic feelers sought out minute cracks in the stone, entering them. As they grew, they expanded the cracks. Pressure built up within the stone, and it started to flake apart.

Millennia of weathering and damage to the stone took place within minutes. With an audible crack, the monument broke into several pieces and tumbled to the ground.

Ororo noticed Rogue and Topaz waiting in the foyer. "Will?" she guessed.

Rogue nodded. "You getting anything from him?" she asked Topaz.

"I can't get a handle on it. You felt it, too, 'Roro?"

"I felt… something. I'm not sure what it is."

"Same here," Logan said as he entered the room to join them. He sniffed the air. "Smells… loamy… no… like a forest that's drying out after a rain." He listened for a moment. "He's right outside."

Rogue raised her voice a bit. "Will? Are you okay?"

There was a brief silence, followed by Will's voice.

_"Okay?"_

This was followed by a long bout of laughter… which seemed tinged more than slightly by madness.

_"I was deaaaaad…."_

The front door to the Mansion was old-growth oak, and one of the few things left in the Mansion that dated to its original construction by Xavier's ancestors. Nearly three inches thick, it had survived countless objects being hurled against it, being torn out of its jamb, and being slammed by a grouchy Kitty Pryde.

It was not, however, prepared to revert back to being composed of living wood again.

As the X-Men looked on, flabbergasted, the door sprouted branches and leaves. Splitting down the middle, it changed shape, transforming into two oak trees, whose branches intertwined above the lintel.

The figure who stepped through the space between the trees was nude, and covered from the neck down with tattoos that writhed over the surface of his body. Serpents, deer, elk, bear, and creatures unknown to man coursed over his skin.

Will's hair had grown a good six inches, and his eyes, along with their usual silver glow, now had flecks of green in them. His teeth were bared in a feral smile.

_"But I'm feeling _much _better now."_


	74. Chapter 74

_ Authors Note: My apologies for the delay in this chapter (__**Ten months? Oy**__.) I was taking a class or two, and I've had a major woodworking project in the pipe. More on that later. Hopefully, no more major delays._

"It's me. Yes, he did it.

"Damn scary. From what you've told me, I'd say that he's at Ludgate's level. Maybe stronger.

"No, he doesn't seem to have the megalomania that Ludgate did. He's focused on Nur, of course, but he's mostly concerned with healing damage. He definitely doesn't want to make any major changes to the status quo. I'll contact you if that changes, of course.

"What's he doing right now?

"Basically, creeping everybody out…"

"Will?"

"Yes, Jean?"

"Please stop making the table sprout branches," she asked in a pained voice.

He nodded, snapping a twig off the table leg and pocketing it. "Sorry about that. I'm trying to figure out how to focus the energies correctly."

"Why not just use the Danger Room?" Warren asked.

"Because it's all illusion. There are no natural forces to manipulate."

"We'll train outside today, then," Ororo told him.

He nodded again. "I'll give Bobby a hand with lunch."

After Will had left the room, Scott let his head thunk against the table. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"He's not doing it intentionally," Rogue informed him somewhat defensively. "It's just like before. He's had a power boost, and he's adjusting."

"Rogue," Scott said wearily, "he turned our dogwood tree into an _Ent_. I'm never going to be able to go near the thing again."

"He hasn't done anything destructive, at least," Betsy commented. "I talked to Amanda last night, and she said that Ludgate became a walking body count."

"That's true," Jean conceded. "He hasn't become any more aggressive than usual."

"What do you mean, 'than usual'?" Warren asked.

Jean thought for a moment about the best way to phrase her response. "It's something that I've sensed with Quicksilver, too. Sometimes, they both 'get' something _instantly_… Pietro, due to his speed, and Will, through intuition. And they both get annoyed when the rest of us need time to catch up."

Betsy thought about that. "Alison did the same when she heard somebody else sing or play an instrument. She has perfect pitch, and can't stand sour notes."

"And Will just got a whole new layer of awareness tacked on," Scott mused. "Great." He looked towards Rogue. "Have you noticed anything different about him?"

"Well," she admitted, "the new tattoos are taking some time to get used to."

"I thought they faded away."

"They did. But they have a tendency to pop up again out of nowhere… and not always in the same spots. It seems to depend on what he's doing at the moment."

"That would make sense," Topaz said as she walked in and sat at the table. "The animals represent different aspects of his new powers. Their appearance will reflect what he's concentrating on."

"I haven't looked at them too closely," Scott admitted. "What's there?"

"So far," Rogue said, "I've seen a deer, elk, fish, bear, seal, fox, otter, eagle, and what I think is a lion. And there's a sun and moon."

"The astrological parts are obvious," Ororo said. "What about the others?"

"The fish is probably a salmon," Topaz clarified. "They figure into Celtic mythology. Everything but the lion was native to Ireland at some point. It might be there because it's the biggest land-based predator."

"Or the king of beasts," Ororo suggested.

"Maybe," Topaz agreed.

"But how will all of that affect him in the field?" Scott asked.

"The best way to find out…"

"Ready, Will?" Ororo asked an hour later.

"Ready."

They were in the back yard of the Mansion, where, Will stood in the center of a circle formed by the other X-Men. Xavier and Topaz observed from a few yards away.

"Any suggestions?" Xavier asked Topaz quietly.

"Lob him a few softballs, then crank it up slowly. He'll probably overcompensate at first."

Xavier nodded, then sent a mental suggestion to Jean. She lifted a pile of squash balls with her mind, then started tossing them at Will.

Will batted them aside, almost casually. "Try a few at a time," he suggested. As the next round… a group of four… came at him, he became a blur of motion, swatting them away.

"I thought you didn't want to use your other powers," Scott commented.

"I didn't."

"So why the super-speed?"

"I didn't use it. That was in normal time."

"…Oh," was all Scott could think to say.

"So your reflexes have been enhanced," Henry said with a nod.

"Looks that way," Will agreed. He took a moment to sniff the air. "Sense of smell might be sharper, too. We should probably test that in the lab. Fewer variables."

"What about offensive moves?" Bishop asked.

Will grimaced. "I've got plenty of new ones. Unfortunately, most of them seem to be instantly lethal."

"Such as?"

"I'd really rather not say. They're a bit grisly."

"Talk," Ororo said firmly.

"Okay," he replied with a shrug. "I could set the phosphorus pockets in your body alight. I can alter the way that the water in your system behaves, or make any plant life you've eaten recently decide to take root and grow to full size…"

"…You can stop talking now," Ororo said in a faint voice.

"You were warned. And knowing how to do it doesn't mean that I intend to."

"What _do_ you intend to do with these new powers?" Xavier asked.

"Exactly what I said from the beginning: Counter Nur, and lessen the effects of environmental damage."

"How?" Scott asked him.

"You saw what I did to the front door. I can do that to _anything_ made of wood. Imagine what I could do in a flood zone if every board in a wrecked house became an individual tree, with full root systems. It'd be an instant response to the conditions we encountered in China."

"Maybe you should carry some wood chips somewhere on your uniform for that very purpose," Henry suggested.

Will seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "No, that would almost guarantee that I'd introduce invasive species into an area. I'm better off working with local plants."

"What about the other aspects of the power?" Betsy asked. "The tattoos, for example?"

He shrugged out of his shirt, then held his hands out in front of him, palms up. The tattoos flowed over his chest and back. He stretched his arms behind his back, then turned his gaze over to the lake.

"I don't know about you guys, but I feel up for a swim."

"How long's it been since he came up for air?" Warren asked Logan.

"Least five minutes." He turned to look at topaz. "Lemme guess. There's a seal tattoo on him somewhere."

"It was on his ankle, last I looked."

Ororo sighed and rubbed at her temples. She was getting a headache. "Please ask him to come up, Jean."

Will's form slid underneath the water and moved back to the docks, where it resurfaced. He waded towards them until he was waist-deep in the water, then pushed his hair back, out of his eyes. "Yes, Boss?"

"That's enough," Ororo told him. "Come on out."

Will nodded and stepped out of the water. As he dried himself off with the towel that Bobby had handed him, Ororo leaned towards Rogue. "Has he lost weight?" she asked quietly.

Rogue nodded. "About fifteen pounds. All fat. God knows where it was hiding. I wouldn't recommend the diet plan, though."

"It's a brutal one," she agreed. She stepped closer to Xavier and Topaz. "What else should we check?"

"He should have a defensive move or two up his sleeve," Xavier mused. "I'll tell Logan to try to pin him to the ground."

As they were talking, Will finished drying off, then squatted down for a few moments, studying the ground. Reaching down, he picked up a small piece of broken twig from a burning bush that was nearby, and twirled it in his fingers.

Logan, meanwhile, had confirmed Xavier's request, which had also been relayed to Scott. Logan crouched, then leapt towards Will with a roar.

Will tossed the twig into the air between himself and Logan. Within the space of two eyeblinks, it had grown into a dense bramble, about a cubic meter large.

A bramble with _lots_ of thorns.

"I _am_ sorry, Logan."

"I said _shaddup_, Chuck!" Logan snapped as he yanked out yet another thorn.

"Well," Henry mused, "You must admit that it's a damn effective maneuver. It would be useful for crowd control, as well."

"Maybe," Logan grunted, "but it probably would've killed a normal person."

"Where is he now?"

"The barber," Xavier replied. "He said that he couldn't think with all that hair. After that, he's going to Hawaii to train with the rest of his team."

"_His_ team?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Xavier shrugged. "His idea, his money. I'm not particularly territorial."

"Says the man with his initial on five teams."

"Four," Henry pointed out. "Excalibur is a full word."

"Where are your tats?" Pyro asked.

"I told them to take five," Will replied as he and Rogue entered the residence wing. He was dressed in short sleeves and khakis. "I didn't feel like fielding twenty questions from the barber."

"Your older tattoos are also missing," Ororo observed.

"They were incorporated into the new ones."

"So where did they go?" Bobby asked.

Will pulled up a sleeve of his shirt. A crowded jumble of tattoos covered the arm underneath. "I look like a member of the Irish branch of the Yakuza underneath."

"Do we have anybody in the visitors' center right now?" Rogue asked.

"The last batch left about an hour ago," Domenic told her. Sighing, he rubbed at his temples. "We _really_ have to get the gift shop up and running."

"I'll start working on it tonight," Will promised. "Should we run it ourselves, or hire it out?"

They considered that for a while, deciding that hiring a local resident would be beneficial for the local community, help with public relations, and be one less headache. Domenic made a note to see if any students at the local high school and community college would be interested. "We should do a background check on them before hiring them," Ororo declared.

"That was a given," Will agreed. "Okay, everybody get changed and gear up. We'll train on the beach on the east side for now. Meet you out there in ten minutes."

Once everyone was in uniform and outside, Will suggested an exercise in combining power effects. "Topaz, I'd like you to monitor me as we're doing this… and Meggan, too."

"No problem, boss." Topaz floated a meter or so above the ground, folding her legs into lotus position. "Just in case Domenic makes the earth move," she informed them.

"I thought that was Bobby's job," Rogue quipped. They all laughed as Topaz and Bobby blushed.

"Okay, let's get started," Will told them. "Just give me one second…"

Raising his hands so that they were parallel to the ground, he let the energies of the earth flow through him and back sown into the soil at his feet. After a few seconds of this, Will's new awareness shifted to align with the local natural forces. _"Ready."_

"What's first?" Bobby asked.

_ "Let's start off by combining polarities… Fire and Water, Earth and Air. Why don't you and St. John focus your powers on a point about a meter above my head?"_

Bobby nodded. "I'll start," he told St. John, as he aimed a blast of cold into the air. St. John followed a few moments later with a tightly controlled stream of flame. The spot where the two combined discharged a mix of steam and cold rain, which dripped onto Will's head.

"Meggan," Topaz piped up, "you may be a better fit for this."

Meggan nodded, and let loose a mild blast of energy, just as Ororo aimed a stream of lightning. The four energies converged at the same point.

Will let out a light grunt as he dropped to one knee. "You okay?" Rogue asked him.

_"Magic just spiked. I've got it covered."_ He made some adjustments to his shields, then stood up. _"Any changes I should worry about?"_ he asked Topaz.

"You're running hot, but there aren't any changes to your aura. Want me to try synching with you?"

_ "No way. The top of my head would probably pop off."_

"You should probably bleed off some of the power, then."

_"Right."_ He thought for a moment. _"Domenic, what's our major crop vegetable in the greenhouse?"_

Domenic took a moment to think about that. "Well, we've got mixed lettuce greens, soybeans, barley, and sweet potatoes right now. We've still got a few weeks until anything's ready, though."

_ "I think I can help with that."_

Over the next few days, the patrons of the local food bank came home with as many sweet potatoes as they could carry, a bag apiece of barley flour, and bags of frozen edamame.

And at Ecologix headquarters, a sign could be found next to a massive pile of vegetables:

_ Free to Take. PLEASE!!!_

After the impromptu harvest, Will spent about three hours on his computer, looking for items that would be suitable for the team's shop. Ororo, St. John, and Topaz made calls to Wakanda, Australia, and India, respectively, working through their local contacts. Bobby, Rogue, and Meggan spent the time moving some displays around to clear out the area where Will would build the shop later.

"Okay," Will declared at one point, "we've got microscopes, telescopes, thermometers, and barometers."

"I have _kente_ cloth, carvings, and cassava," Ororo added.

"I've got stuffed kangaroos and digidiroos," St. John announced.

"And I have saris, sandals, and cinnabar," Topaz finished.

"I'll contact X-Force when we get back to the Mansion," Ororo offered. "James Proudstar was looking into contacts with Apache crafters for us."

Will nodded. "It'll take two weeks or so to get everything together, anyway. It's probably best to set up some sort of screening for the work area while we're building. We should put a safe in the floor, too. It'd be damn embarrassing if we had a theft."

"I can take care of that," Topaz said. "There are a few boxes that won't open without a trigger word."

"That'll work." Will took a piece of paper out of the printer and started sketching.

The rest of the team came over to see his work. "No roof?" Rogue asked.

"It'll be inside anyway," he shrugged, "and it'll reduce the need for lighting. We should be able to get by with a few LED strips."

"Will this be permanent," Bobby asked, "or something we can take apart if we need the room?"

"Good question," Ororo admitted. We may need to use the pace in an emergency."

Will thought about it for a moment, the nodded. "Got it. Torsion boxes."

"What?" was the chorused answer.

He quickly started sketching again. "You build a rigid internal frame… usually made of plywood, which what we'll use… and sheathe it with a rigid panel on all six sides. Lightweight, but incredibly strong. It's how they build wooden interior doors. We'll bolt them from the top and bottom to a steel strip, and a row of them will give us a solid wall."

"So we can take it apart in a few minutes with a cordless drill," Domenic mused. "Works for me. We'll do the same with the shelving?"

"We could. I'll add threaded inserts into the wall panels, and run bolts through the shelves. A driver or ratchet will do the job later."

Rogue nodded in approval. "And a laptop and cash drawer will work for a register. We can just put them on a wheeled tray."

"That raises a point," Bobby told them. "I'll have to set up some kind of database and labeling system. We'll need some way of sending the money back to the artists."

"Maybe encoding that info into barcode labels would work," Will suggested. "We'll talk about it later." Glancing at his watch, he winced. "It's getting late. Should we stay here tonight, or head back to the Mansion?"

"We'd better head back," Rogue decided. "I've got monitor duty, and you have breakfast."

"I'll stay," Ororo told them. "My duty shift here starts in the morning, anyway."

"Same here," Meggan added.

Bobby and Topaz glanced at each other. "We'll head back, too," Bobby said. "It'll be easier to set up the database form the Mansion computers."

Will nodded. "We'll get going, then. I'll go lumber shopping tomorrow."

Upon returning to the Mansion, Will spent some time in the kitchen, chopping up ingredients for omelets. He returned to their bedroom to find Rogue stepping out of the shower. "Drat," he commented. "I missed the show."

"Maybe there'll be another showing later," she said coyly as she toweled her hair. "You want to wash up?"

He nodded. "I'll probably head straight down to make breakfast. Do you want to wake up with me, or sleep in?"

"Let me think about it. I'll decide before you're out of the shower."

A quick scrub and rinse dealt with the day's worth of dust and grime, but Will was somewhat disconcerted to see that his tattoos shifted on his skin in such a way that they avoided the washcloth.

He sighed. "Any chance I can get you guys to take the night off? I'm too tired to deal with mystic visions tonight."

He blinked in surprise when the faded away, sinking deeper into his skin. "Thank you," was the only response that came to mind.

He toweled himself and ran a comb through his hair, than stepped back into the bedroom to find that Rogue had already dimmed the lights.

"Tonight's show has been postponed because the starts are exhausted," Rogue told him tiredly from her side of the bed. "All tickets will be honored at the next engagement."

Will chuckled. "I'm beat, too. You covered up?"

"Nope. Your turn tonight."

"Fair enough." He slid into a pair of light sweatpants, turtleneck, socks, and his microfiber mask and gloves. He set the alarm, then spooned next to her in the bed. They were both asleep within minutes.

The next morning, Will spent the better part of an hour filling requests for omelets. He drafted Bishop as a driver for two hours, and they went to the local lumber yard, where Will picked up enough plywood to build the walls for the gift shop. The next stop was a specialty carpentry shop, where he purchased enough veneer to cover all of the panels.

The rest of Will's morning was spent building what was, essentially, a giant veneer press, which would be used to apply the veneer to the panels once they were constructed.

"How long will the glue take to dry?" Logan asked when he came by to observe the process.

"I'm going to give it a week, to be on the safe side," Will replied, as he ran a roller over a newly-glued sheet, removing any hidden air bubbles. "I added an agent to the glue to give me more setup time, so that'll slow down the drying process a bit. I would've just use hide glue to start, but it loses strength if it's too hot or humid. I'm afraid that a heat wave in Hawaii would make the thing fall apart on me."

"Shouldn't you be doing the assembly there, so the wood has time to adjust?"

"It's not really required for this. The plywood's dimensionally stable, and the veneer's too thin to make any movement visible." He put his tools down and laid long sheets of waxed paper over the entire board. "Grab the other end so I can add this to the stack."

Two weeks of work by Will was sufficient to finish the walls of the gift shop. Ororo, after some searching, had bound shelving units made of pressed bamboo, which were quickly stocked with the merchandise that had started to arrive.

Both Will and Topaz teleported to various points around the world to pick up items. Bobby and Meggan entered the pertinent information about the items into the database Bobby had designed, and Ororo and Rogue, the professional shoppers of the group, set prices for everything.

"How are we handling the payments to the folks who made this stuff?" Domenic asked, as he stocked a shelf with bookstands from India.

"Debit cards," Bobby told him. The money goes onto the card on the same day that the item's sold."

"Any responses to the ad yet?' Meggan questioned.

"Ten. How did we want to handle the interviews?"

"You and Topaz. You can check their references, and Topaz is good at making people feel comfortable, since I can imagine that the person will be a bit nervous. She should be able to catch any obvious lies, too."

"Keep it casual," Rogue suggested. "If that pass muster, we can do a second interview with the entire team later."

"How many hours per week are we looking for?" Bobby asked.

Will did the mental arithmetic. "Well, barring the times that we're deployed, we're open ten hours a day, seven days a week. That's seventy hours. Allow for some overlap… let's say twenty-six hours per week, assuming that we can arrange their schedules around their classes."

"Barely full time," Bobby mused. "Should we offer benefits?"

"If they're full time students, they probably already have them. We'll see what their situation is. They will _not_ get a uniform. If there's an attack, they'll become an instant target. We'll just give them a nametag." He thought for a moment. "Do we have a list of the interviewees' names?"

"I had the resumes," St. John told him, as he searched through a stack of folders. "Here you go."

Will took the folder and leafed through the contents for a moment. "Good," he said with a nod. "Just making sure."

"Of what?" Meggan asked.

"Call me superstitious, but I'm leery of hiring any teens named Wendy or Marvin."


	75. Chapter 75

Lee Ann Wantanabe pressed the intercom button and waited nervously. After a few seconds, she got a reply.

_"Good morning, Miss Wantanabe. Just give us a moment to raise the bridge. You came by bike, correct?"_

"Yes, sir."

_"Give the bridge a minute or two to dry out, then. Please come in through the main entrance."_

Lee Ann watched with interest as the bridge rose, and waited patiently for about three minutes as the seawater dripped through the perforations in its surface. Once the traffic barrier lowered, she started forward.

She approached the main door, which opened as she was looking for a place to tie up her bike. A tired-looking, but still gorgeous, blonde stepped out.

"You can bring that inside, Miss Wantanabe. We have a spot for it in the break room."

Lee Ann nodded, stepping off the bike and walking it inside. The width of the double doorway allowed her to walk beside the other woman. "Did I come at a bad time?"

"We just got back from a forest fire in California. It took us about eight hours to get everything under control, so we're all a bit frazzled."

"Would you like me to come back tomorrow?"

"That won't be necessary, Miss Wantanabe," a new voice said as they entered the main room.

The voice in question belonged to an older-looking man, who was holding an ice pack… a large slab of ice wrapped in a towel, actually… against a heavily bruised face.

"It's likely that you'll see us like this often, so we may as well get you used to it now. Welcome to the madhouse." He stood up and shook her hand, readjusting the ice pack as he did so. "Everybody okay with civilian names in private? Okay. I'm Will, you've met Meggan, that's Ororo, Bobby, Domenic, St. John. Topaz and Rogue go by their code names."

"Then I'll go by Lee Ann."

"What are you majoring in?"

"Marine biology."

"You're still an undergrad?"

"I'm on year three of a combined B.S./M.S. program. Two years to go."

Will nodded. "If you like, one of our people can reconfigure your laptop's firewall so that you can use it here. Our security wouldn't allow it otherwise."

"I'd appreciate that."

"If you give us half an hour or so to clean up, Bobby will show you how our inventory database works. Did you bring a lunch?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Glad to have you with us." He winced. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have cinders in some very uncomfortable places." Turning, he limped out of the room.

"I should only be twenty minutes or so," Bobby told Lee Ann. "You can take a look at the store, and see if there's anything you think can be improved."

"He'll take at least half an hour," Rogue whispered to Lee Ann as he left.

Lee Ann grinned. "I guessed as much when I saw Topaz's hand on his ass. How did… Will get hurt?"

"The fire was near some new luxury homes, and we had to use some fancy footwork to keep trees from falling on houses. A limb snapped, and it smacked him across the face when it sprang back."

Lee Ann winced. "Ouch."

Rogue nodded. "When he came to, he had some… colorful words to say to the owners about maintaining firebreaks."

"Is that going to hurt your image?"

"Will's rapidly becoming fond of a phrase regarding over-development. I'm starting to agree with it."

"What's that?"

"'Stupid Should Hurt'."

* * *

Two hours or so proved to be sufficient time to get the new employee trained on the database system. They took a short break afterwards, during which Will handed Lee Ann a small nametag, which he had just finished carving out of driftwood.

"I'd like to go over a few of the rules," Will told her, "just to make sure that there isn't any miscommunication later."

"No problem."

"Rule One: If this place gets attacked, you do _not_ play hero. You _run_. If there are visitors here, you blend in with them and make your way out." He paused for a moment. "Domenic, let's look into the idea of adding a panic room, attached to the break room."

Domenic thought about that. "We'll have to cut into the slab."

"I can teleport part of it away if need be. Rule Two: There will be times when we have to lock this place down. Be prepared for that. We have a guest bedroom that you can use, so you might want to consider keeping a change of clothes in your locker, just to be on the safe side.

"Rule Three… in many ways, the most important one. We're going to keep you in the dark about certain aspects of our operation. This is for your protection. It's likely that there are groups that will try to counter our work, and it's possible that they could try to pump you for information. You can't reveal what you don't know, and even the most casual telepathic scan would confirm that you're telling the truth."

"I understand."

"You'll be scanned for your right palm print and retinal print," Ororo informed Lee Ann. "In addition, you'll be given an access card that responds to your left thumbprint."

"And your aura will be scanned when you use the shop's safe," Topaz added.

"We apologize for the security overkill," Will finished, "but it would just be too easy for a metamorph to step in and take your place."

"There's no need to apologize. My dad used to be a contractor at Pearl, so I can appreciate the need for security."

"What are you researching for your thesis?"

"I'm trying to develop a more accurate census method for bottlenose dolphin populations."

"How's it going?"

"Slowly. I think that I have some good ground rules in place, but I still have to modify it to account for local conditions."

"Maybe I could help," Meggan suggested. "I can talk to dolphins."

Lee Ann blinked. "I… think I'll have to discuss that with my advisor."

"Fair enough," Meggan agreed cheerfully.

"That raises a question," Ororo said. "Do you think that you'll have any problems at school due to working here?"

Lee Ann shook her head. "I don't think so. Actually, I've had a few people say they were envious of me. If your idea for guest speakers pans out, it'd be a great way to make professional contacts."

"But no comments on the mutant issue?"

"It doesn't seem to _be_ an issue. My professors and the other students in my classes are interested in what you can do… but in terms of environmental impact, not your powers. There's no interest in your genetic status."

"That's good to hear," Bobby said. "It's a nice change of pace."

"We should open up," Rogue remarked. "It's almost eleven."

Domenic pulled out a small PDA from his pocket and woke it up. "We've got… eight people out there," he said after a few taps.

"I'll drive the tram," Bobby volunteered as he stood up.

"And I'll play guide," Will said. "Meggan, could you give Lee Ann a quick tour?"

"No problem. Should I include the beach?"

He considered that for a moment. "Yes. She can spend her breaks there if she likes. Show her the lanai, too."

* * *

Lee Ann got right to work after her tour, ringing up the purchases of each group of visitors as they came through. "I noticed that you don't have any local art," she commented to Ororo at one point.

"We decided not to interfere with the local market," Ororo explained. "Picking just a few artists wouldn't be fair to everyone else. We _have_ considered hosting an open exhibition. Are you having any problems?"

"Oh, no. I worked in a grocery store when I was in high school, so this is easy by comparison. I also noticed that you don't have any snacks for the kids."

"We're still considering it. We'd have to deal with storage and trash issues. It would be the same for drinks."

Lee Ann nodded. ""I looked at the book selection. Pretty eclectic."

Ororo smiled. "Blame Will. He's the one who's been choosing them."

"Well, he seems to know a bit about renewable energy, given all of the books he chose. There's a lot of stuff on sustainable gardening, too."

"Domenic helped with that. I came by to relieve you so that you could have lunch."

"Okay. I can go out to the beach, right?"

"Yes, but if you go into the water, please stay within the buoy line that we set up."

"Fair enough."

Lee Ann took a quick shortcut through the greenhouse, and was on the beach within five minutes. She found a comfortable spot underneath a tree, set her watch alarm so that she wouldn't lose track of time, then dug out her lunch and a textbook from her pack. Within seconds, she was delving into the mysteries of orca migration.

The rest of the day was slow, a fact explained by St. John as a result of the students needing to get back to class. "Most of our older visitors come on the weekends," he added.

"Just like most other museums," Will commented as he walked over. "Any questions or concerns, Miss Wantanabe?"

"Just one question. Is the telescope on the back porch yours?"

"Yes. I'm an astronomy buff. It's why all the outdoor lights are sodium halide."

"I noticed. I liked the interactive display you made on light pollution, too."

"Well, it's an important issue that doesn't get much attention, and it's only getting worse due to suburban sprawl and a shopping center every half-kilo down the road. It has major impact on migratory birds and human circadian rhythms, and it louses things up for astronomers."

"Maybe you could do a bulb giveaway."

He considered that. "I'd prefer to give out LED bulbs, but I don't know what the light wavelength is like. I should look that up."

Ororo took out her PDA, wrote a quick reminder, and sent it off to Will's account. "Done, Boss," she told him with a smirk.

"You actually carry that thing around with you?"

"Of course," she replied, her eyes twinkling. "We never know what pearls of wisdom you'll utter next."

"When did being a smartass become a mutant power?" Will thought out loud.

"It's just a talent."

* * *

At class the next day, Lee Ann was peppered with questions from both her teachers and fellow students. She kept her answers as vague as she could get away with, citing the team's security concerns and desire for privacy. Her advisor, after thinking it over, decided that while Meggan's ability to communicate with dolphins was fascinating, it would likely be inadmissible for her thesis, since there was no way to objectively verify it. He _did_ suggest, however, that Meggan could provide off-the-record, independent verification and corroboration of Lee Ann's results, which would make her thesis more likely to pass review.

The three days a week that she spent at Ecologix HQ were informative, entertaining, and occasionally a bit surreal. Her impressions of the team members became more nuanced as she spent more time with them. Domenic was a stable, dependable type, while St. John varied between being somewhat withdrawn and almost outrageously gregarious. She found out later that the former state meant that he was considering ideas for his next book.

Meggan was almost invariably cheerful, which, in turn, helped raise the moods of those around her. Lee Ann was curious about her habit of always having a book on her whenever she was off duty, so she asked Meggan about it one day. Meggan explained that she had only learned to read recently, and was making up for lost time.

Ororo was the sole morning person on the team. (Meggan's disposition in the morning seemed to depend on that of her fellow teammates.) She seemed to view her time at the base as a break from her leadership duties, and relaxed accordingly. She also enjoyed the crafts demonstrations that were occasionally put on for school-age children.

Bobby enjoyed spending time with the children as well, because it allowed the childish part of his own personality free rein. His jokes and antics helped draw out some of the more reserved children, and got them interested in the topics he discussed… usually something to do with climate change or the species to be found at the poles.

Topaz also worked well with children, and was able to use her empathic abilities to quiet fussy infants, easing the strain on their parents. She could usually be found in either the greenhouse or garden when she wasn't on duty, meditating or running through her yoga postures. Lee Ann didn't quite get the comment about Topaz not being able to wear her usual meditation uniform…

Rogue seemed to enjoy being a 'floater', working wherever there was a need at any given moment. She took care to make sure that the public areas of the base were clean and well-maintained. While Lee Ann couldn't be sure, she was fairly certain that Rogue had also taken responsibility for the team's inventory and supplies.

The team leader, Will, was something of a puzzle to Lee Ann. He was always polite, but seemed to want to keep a degree of professional distance from her. When he wasn't acting as a guide or giving a presentation, he was usually in the residence, working at his computer.

"He's really not comfortable around large groups of people," Rogue explained to her at one point. "It's draining for him, so he needs some alone time to recharge."

"What's he doing on the computer?"

"Catching up on email, reading the news, getting some writing done, that sort of thing."

"He seems comfortable enough with the visitors to me."

"It's an act, believe me. He gets really nervous if he starts to get crowded in."

"He always seems… preoccupied,"

"That's due to his powers. He's always got something competing for his attention, and sometimes he drifts off for a bit." She grinned. "The trick is knowing how to get his attention back."

"Please, no details."

"You're spoiling my fun."

* * *

One Friday night, Lee Ann was invited to stick around after work to share dinner with the team. Will was cooking, and had set up a barbecue pit to slow-cook a side of beef and two whole chickens. "I thought that a whole pig would be a bit cliched," he explained.

"The luau has gotten a bit overdone," she admitted.

"You deserve some advance warning," Ororo said from behind them. "Will makes the barbecue sauces himself. The X-Men have labeled them as 'Medium, 'Hot', and 'Whimper Like A Lost Puppy'."

Will just shrugged. "I'll cauterize your taste buds eventually." He opened up the pit, then poked into the meats with a cooking fork. "I'd give this ten more minutes."

"We'll bring everything else out, then."

Domenic unfolded a portable table, and Rogue and Topaz brought out several cold dishes. A few minutes later, they were all munching on chicken, or a very tender beef brisket. Beer and sodas sat in a bucket that Bobby had filled with ice.

Lee Ann dipped a piece of brisket into the 'medium' sauce and took a bite. "Ooh, that's good," she said to herself. She looked up at Rogue. "Do you guys eat like this every night?"

"No, we're just avoiding the meal at our main base. Bishop's cooking leaves some things to be desired."

"Little things," Will added. "Taste, texture, edibility…"

They all sat and chatted casually for half an hour or so, at which point Will excused himself and, taking his chair with him, went down the beach a ways and sat, facing the sea. "What's he doing?" Lee Ann asked.

"Meditating," Rogue told her. "He needs some alone time every day to stay balanced."

"So, Lee Ann, tell me," Ororo said, cupping her chin in a palm, "how does one go about counting dolphins?"

As Lee Ann's answer became increasingly technical, Rogue quietly left the group and went to join Will. "You okay?" she asked softly.

He gave her an affectionate smile. "I'm fine. It's just that being this close to the sea brings up a lot of memories from the Chorus."

"Like what?"

"Sailing on a Yankee whaler… and a Spanish galleon… an Irish coracle… out on the open sea. A clear, starlit night, like this, using an astrolabe, compass, and the stars to find the way…"

"No Viking longship this time?"

"Nope. The things that I see are completely random. If there's a pattern, I've never noticed it."

"That brings up a question. Can you sail a boat?"

Will thought about that for a moment. "I honestly don't know. We should test that out."

"I'll put it on the 'to-do' list. Lee Ann wanted me to tell you that she'll have to head home soon. Bobby, Topaz, and 'Roro are going back to the Mansion right afterwards. We start our stretch here in the morning, remember."

He nodded. "Was there anything you needed before we head to bed?"

"Just a shower." She gave him an impish grin. "And an audience."

Will packed the leftovers up in record time.

* * *

Lee Ann arrived for work one morning to find a new, small building on the grounds. She walked over to it, finding that Will was still adding shingles to the roof. "What's this?" she asked him.

"Chicken coop," He replied. "We bought the chicks this morning, so I thought I'd get the coop done ahead of time."

She nodded. "How many did you get?"

"An even dozen, all heritage breeds. That should give us plenty of eggs, and some roasters besides."

"I won't have to muck out the coop, will I?"

He laughed. "No, we'll take care of the cleanup. And the great part about being on an island is that you don't have to chase after them, either."

"You'll be letting them run free?"

"Within limits. We'll be keeping them away from areas where people are going to be. Letting them run through the garden will be fine, though. We _are_ going to keep the goats fenced in, though. I want to avoid any stripping of the local landscape."

She nodded. "What will you do when butchering time comes around?"

"Haven't decided yet. We're not doing any demonstrations, though."

"That wouldn't help your image," she agreed. "Where's everybody else?"

"The ladies are all cooing over the chicks." He paused for a moment. "That just sounds _wrong_."

Lee Ann laughed. "What about Bobby? He promised to help me with inventory today."

"Well, Topaz is likely bent over the chick box right now, so you'll find Bobby…"

"Watching her ass, right…"

* * *

"I honestly wasn't sure if I could do this, Topaz."

"That's why I thought we should test it out. Does it feel any different to you?"

"Slightly. It's hard to describe."

"Could that affect your control, St. John?"

"I don't think so, Rogue. I'd like to experiment a bit more before we try this in the field, though."

The team was watching, impressed, as St. John manipulated a flame construct he had built from a fire that Topaz had summoned. Will had asked, earlier in the day, if he could manipulate magickal fire. St. John didn't know, so they decided that an experiment was in order. Having gathered on the beach (to minimize the chance of accidents), Topaz had summoned a small ball of greenish-blue fire in the palm of her hand. Taking that as a start, St. John had used the flame as he did the small flame-throwers built into his costume.

Will nodded. "I think that if this works, we could build some gauntlets that would allow you to call up a flame at will. It'd be a bit safer than your current setup. To be honest, the exposed fuel tanks have always made me nervous. They're too obvious a target."

St. John nodded. "They can get in the way, too. Every once in a while, I snag the hoses on something. Want me to give you an old pair of gauntlets, so you can test the fit?"

"It would help." He looked at Topaz. "Copper?"

"Or bronze. We might be able to get away with setting the gems in a small metal plate, then setting that inside a composite. It would give his forearms some protection."

"How about a nanotube fiber?"

She thought about it. "That could work. Aren't they using nanotubes for solar collection now?"

"It's still in testing stages. We're a few years away from practical application."

"It wouldn't have to be much. Just enough storage to charge the gem, same way that Meggan's amulet does."

"That should be doable." He took his PDA from his coat and switched to a drawing program. After a few quick sketches, he showed them a prototype design. "We'll put the gems on the inner side of the gauntlets, closer to the palms of your hands. They'll be short enough that your wrist movement isn't restricted."

St. John nodded in approval. "Looks good."

"I'd advise keeping a lighter somewhere on your uniform, to be on the safe side," Will advised. "Just in case we run into something that negates magic." He turned to Topaz. "That reminds me… I still have to make your knives."

"No rush," she assured him.

"Probably best for me to do it now, before it slips my mind again. Why don't we head back to the Mansion, and I'll get started."

* * *

Will started a small fire in his forge, then let it burn slowly until he had a large pile of coals. He took a short length of iron bar, then shoved it into the coals with a pair of tongs. "I'll make these strong enough to be effective weapons on their own," he told Topaz, who sat beside Rogue atop his workbench, "but feel free to add some enchantments as I go, if you want."

"What sort of enchantments could you do?" asked Ororo, who was seated at Will's drafting table.

"I have a few options. I could make it so that they either burn or freeze my opponent's skin… not both. They could affect only nonliving things, so somebody's armor or guns would be affected, but not their flesh. They could never miss their target if thrown. That sort of thing."

"Impressive," Ororo admitted.

"Enchanted blades tend to stay free of rust and corrosion, don't they?" Will asked.

"I've seen more than my fair share," Topaz told him, "and they all looked great, no matter how old they were."

"Good. I think I'll make these Damascus steel, then."

"That'll take a while."

"True, but you can't rush quality work." He thought for a moment. "I'll need ferric chloride for the final etching."

"Hank might have some in his lab," Ororo informed him. "I'll see if he can part with it."

"We've got some time. This is going to take a few hours."

Once the iron was glowing to a bright red, verging towards yellow, Will removed it from the coals. He placed an anvil devil atop the surface of the anvil, then took a four–pound hammer in his right hand. Holding the tongs in his left, he placed the iron atop the devil and gave it a good rap with the hammer. He then bent the iron at the dent point, essentially folding the iron back upon itself, then hammered it flat. "That's one fold down."

"How many to go?" Rogue asked.

"Don't ask."

"I'll get you some water, then."

"Not too much. I can't take a break from this."

"Why not?"

"Magic is intent driven by will. If I lose my concentration, the enchantment is ruined, or worse, corrupted. I'm not going to risk that on a teammate's weapon."

"We could help out."

"Not a good idea," Topaz told her. "It'd be a case of too many cooks interfering with the finished product. I've seen what happens to spells when that happens, and it's not pretty."

"Okay," Rogue sighed. "Just don't pull the same stunt you did before."

"This should only take… let's say thirty-six to forty-eight hours. I can push through that without too much of a problem. I'll just crash for eighteen hours or so afterwards."

"Anything I can do to help, then?"

"Only thing I can think of would be adding fuel to the forge and running the bellows."

"I think I can manage that."

* * *

Throughout the night, and into the next day, the rhythmic _tink-tink-tink_ of hammer meeting steel could be heard from the Mansion. Oddly, no one felt the need to complain. The sound wasn't perceived as annoying, but white noise.

Rogue found that she only had to add more fuel to the forge every twenty minutes or so, giving her plenty of time to observe Will. His eyes had started to glow about an hour into the forging process, and he had begun to mutter something underneath his breath that Rogue was fairly certain wasn't in English. "What is that he's saying?" she asked Topaz in a whisper.

"It's Irish Gaelic… I think. Give me a second." She muttered a short phrase, and Will's voice, after dropping in volume for a heartbeat, became intelligible.

_"I summon this day all these powers between this blade and those evils,_

_Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose the wielder's body and soul,_

_Against incantations of liars,_

_Against black laws of tyrants,_

_Against false laws of the corrupt,_

_Against craft of glamour,_

_Against black spells of witches and smiths and wizards,_

_Against every knowledge that corrupts the body and soul."_

"Interesting," Topaz murmured.

"What?"

"He's reciting Saint Patrick's Breastplate. An adapted version, at least."

"Did Saint Patrick write it?"

"Probably not. The monks who came after him knew the way he thought, though. It's definitely an Irish prayer."

"Why's he using it, though?"

"As a protective spell for the knives, to keep them from being used against the wielder."

Will finished the forging process about ten hours later. He looked at Topaz as he ran the knives through their final firing. _"Rainwater or seawater?"_

"Seawater, please."

He nodded. _"I'll do it in the waters near our island. It'll strengthen the bond if you use them there."_

Glancing to his right, he opened a Door, which led straight to the beach on Ecologix's island. He took a pair of tongs in each hand, removing the knives from the forge with them.

The four of them stepped through the Door and onto the sand of the beach, where the tide was slowly coning in. Will kicked off his shoes and looked at Ororo. _"If you would, please?"_

Ororo nodded, and her eyes whited over. A few seconds later, a small cloud began to form over Will's head. He held the two blades crossed in front of him. He nodded in satisfaction as a small lightning bolt struck the knives. The electricity followed the outline of the blades, then continued up the length of the tongs, finally covering Will's body. He seemed to be unharmed.

Once the electricity had been dispersed into the ground, Will stepped directly into the surf. He held the knives just above the water, allowing an approaching wave to wash over them. He plunged them into the water before the wave had receded, holding them there for a good ten minutes.

"That should be cool enough," he said to himself. He left the water, stepped back into his shoes, then gestured for the women to walk back through the Door. He followed, and placed the knives atop the anvil for a moment. Putting on some protective gloves, he opened up the bottle of ferric chloride and poured the contents into a metal container designed for wallpaper paste. He placed the blades in the acid (slowly, to avoid splashing), and let them sit there for about forty-five minutes, flipping them over once to ensure even coverage. After removing them and letting them drip dry for a moment, he rinsed them in water and dried them off.

He showed the blades to Topaz. "What do you think?"

"Very nice," she told him. The blades had a pattern of fine lines, resembling flames, etched into the steel. "What were you going to use for the handles?"

"I was thinking purpleheart, to go with your uniform. Do you want any sort of protective wards carved into them?"

"I can take care of that later," she assured him. "Why don't you get some rest first?"

"Sounds good to me," Rogue declared, giving Will a nudge. "Move it, mister. You've got a hot shower and a backrub waiting for you."

"Cold milk, warm backrub, hot girlfriend," he mused. "All-temperature cheer."

* * *

Will slept through the day and night, waking up with the sun the next morning. He saw that Rogue was still asleep, and spent a few minutes watching her, a small smile on his face. He gave her a light kiss on the top of her head, then crept out of the bed to take his shower. Dressing in his uniform, he headed down to the Danger Room, where he found that Logan was about to start a solo session.

"Want to do a team up?" Logan asked.

"Actually, I came down for pistol practice," Will confessed.

Logan considered that for a moment. "Let me go get one of mine, and I'll set us up with two lanes."

"That works. Is there a program that I can use for long-range practice?"

"Maybe. Gimme a second." He hit the intercom button. "Wolverine to Cyclops."

_"Yes, Logan?"_ was the reply that came, after a moment's pause.

"What was the name of that program you used to use to calibrate your visor's range settings?"

_"Uh… Pinpoint. I think. Haven't used it in years."_

"Chuck and Hank figured out a way to do it electronically," Logan explained to Will. He turned back to the intercom. "I was thinkin' that Will could use it for rifle practice, if we made a few tweaks to it."

_"That ought to work. Let me finish what I'm working on, and I'll come down. It should only take a few minutes."_

Scott entered the control room about ten minutes later. "What did you have in mind?" he asked Will.

"I want to start training with the rifle that Bishop… acquired for me. I realized that I've only been working with the pistol, and I figured it was time to branch out."

Scott nodded. "Makes sense. Did you want to do straight target shooting, or sniping?"

"Let's start with targets, but in a realistic setting, like a field."

"That'll take a while to program."

"We can run through a few rounds of pistol while he's at it," Logan said.

"Fair enough." Will took his pistol case and headed down to the Danger Room as Logan set up the program. By the time he had reached the door, there was a two-lane pistol range in the room.

Logan entered a few minutes later, a pistol case in his hands. "Which one's that?" Will asked him.

"Colt forty-five ACP."

"For some reason, I thought you'd prefer a forty."

"The forty has a good kick," Logan admitted, "but the forty-five ACP was around for so long that it doesn't get many second glances. Most people think that you're ex-military. And finding replacement parts is easy."

Will nodded. "I've been considering carrying a forty revolver as a backup. I'd use it as a primary weapon out in the woods."

"You'll want to train with it first. A forty can take some time to get used to."

Will thought for a moment. "Actually, I just got an idea. What if I built a gun and rifle lathe? We'd be able to make custom weapons."

_"You can do that?"_ Scott's voice asked from the control room.

"I think so. I might have to order some parts, but I'm pretty certain that I can do the bulk of the work on my current equipment."

_"Do you have the skill for it?"_

Will smiled. "I think my learning curve will be pretty shallow."

"All right, less talking and more shooting," Logan said as he put in a pair of earplugs.

After Will had also donned hearing and eye protection, they began. Logan, as usual, was a crack shot, hitting the bulls-eye at maximum range. Will's shooting was far less accurate. "I think I'd better start making this a weekly affair," he decided after looking at his results.

"Good," Rogue said as she entered the Danger Room, a pistol case in her hand. "It'll give us more bonding time."

Will looked at the case and blinked. "I didn't know you had your own gun."

"Momma trained me on this one when I was twelve," she said as she removed a small twenty-two. "I think I'll get used to it again before I move back up to something bigger."

Will nodded in approval. "Makes sense. It'll give me time to make some custom firearms for the team, if anybody wants them."

"Could you set me up a lane?" Rogue asked Scott as she put on goggles and ear muffs.

_"Already on it,"_ he told her. The lane appeared a few seconds later.

Rogue fired off a quick burst of six rounds and retrieved the target. Her shots were off-center, but her grouping was fairly close. "I thought that'd be a problem," she said wryly.

"What's that?" Will asked.

"When I first started shooting, I had a habit of pulling to the left. Looks like I do again."

"We'll work on it," Logan told her. "Cyke, set us up for an hour of firearms training twice a week. We'll alternate between pistol and rifle."

"Make it three for me," Will said. "I want some time for sniping practice, and I'll need to get used to accounting for wind and distance adjustments."

_"All right,"_ Scott said, making the adjustments to the schedule. _"What are you going to do on your Hawaii days?"_

Will thought about that for a moment. "I'll see where the local cops practice, and wrangle up a membership there."

"That'll help with public relations, too," Rogue mused. "Maybe you should get memberships for the entire team."

"I don't know if Topaz would be interested. I'll ask, though."

"Just what we need," Logan drawled. "A sorceress with a semi-auto."


End file.
